Broken Melody (Luna's Children)

by Melissa Kay Clarke

  An insistent chirping pulled him out of his funk. Drawing his cell out of his pocket, he jabbed the answer button. “Winstead,” he snarled. After listening for a moment he growled. “I know she's not there, she was here forty-eight hours ago. Pull in everyone and put them in this area. NOW!”

  He dropped the phone onto the seat next to him and started the car. Putting it into gear, he backed out of the parking lot and onto the road. Coming to an intersection, he looked both ways wondering where he should go from here. Inside, his wolf was just as agitated as he. Which way? He sat and thought for a moment. What did he know about her since she disappeared last year? She had been living in the local pack and somehow managed to ingrain herself with them. They were protective and even though he had asserted himself, the tall boy with them had been very agitated and somewhat possessive. Mates? He laughed and shook his head. Humans and wolves could never be mates, but perhaps they had been sleeping together. Either way, there's something going between them. There was a honk behind him and he took his foot off the brake, turning to the left and out of town. His gut said that the best way to find the girl was to keep an eye on them, and his gut was usually right.

  EIGHT

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  The clatter of dishes intermingled with voices greeted Zandria's ears once she opened the door to the truck stop. Keeping her head down, she slid into the first vacant booth nearest the door and wriggled out of her backpack, placing it on the worn plastic seat between herself and the wall. Within moments, an older woman with teased, gray streaked hair and way too much makeup came up to her table, smacking heavily on a piece of gum. She wore the same pale yellow uniform as the other waitress and a pair of white, sensible shoes. A name tag with 'Bea' was pinned on her chest.

  “Heya, darlin'. What can I get for ya?”

  Zandria chewed her lip a second. “Water?” she asked then picked up a menu. “I'm not ready to order yet.”

  “Sure thing, honey, be right back.” She turned and sashayed back behind the counter. Zandria pretended to study the menu a moment. To be truthful, she was a bit hungry having not eaten since the night before, but she hesitated to spend any of her meager cache. Some fruit from her bag would be enough, but the thought of having something hot called to her. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to get a grilled cheese sandwich; that shouldn't be too expensive. Having made her decision, she started to return the menu to the holder when a map showing franchise locations on the back caught her eyes. Flattening it on the table before her, she squinted, pushed her glasses back up on her nose and concentrated. There was a big X showing her current location. Wrinkling her nose she worked the unfamiliar word until she was satisfied that she had it. Knoxville. Silently, she followed the line of roads leading away from it in a southern direction until she stopped at her intended destination.

  “New Orleans? That's a far piece from here.” Bea returned and placed the glass of water beside the map. “Is that where you're headed?”

  Zandria slapped the menu over so fast, she almost spilled her water. “Um, I was just looking at the map, you know, uh just following the lines and stuff.”

  Bea studied her a moment as if she wasn't sure she wanted to believe her. There was something about that girl... something different. Her mamma had the sight and sometimes knew things before others. Every once in a while Bea knew things about people. Shaking it off, she smiled at the girl and popped her gum loudly. “So what can I get for you?”

  “I’ll just have a grilled cheese sandwich please,” she mumbled and wriggled uncomfortably. “That's all.”

  Bea jotted it down and turned around making her way back to the counter where she called her order out to the cook. Tearing the page out of her order book, she clipped it to the wheel and turned around watching the girl for a moment. She was a pretty girl, probably no more than eighteen or nineteen with long blond hair, a little on the heavy side but not really what she called fat. Her pale blue eyes were all but lost behind a pair of thick black rimmed glasses. But what was the most remarkable about her was her voice. Even though she spoke very little, there was a musical quality to it. Bea was broken out of her musing by a sharp, “Order up”. She picked up the plate and slid it in front of a man sitting at the bar then topped off his coffee cup. “You need anything else, sugar, you let me know.” She winked at him.

  Zandria watched Bea out of the corner of her eye as she made her rounds, flirting and talking to both men and women alike as well as teasing the children. A well placed smile, a wink or a quick touch on a shoulder – she was an artist who knew her craft well. Her skills seemed to work as her tables left larger tips than the others. Zandria absorbed the knowledge in case she would someday need it. Maybe one day, once she got far enough away from here and away from her past, she could try it. If she couldn't be with Cayson, maybe she could at least support herself as a waitress.

  The thought of her mate created a sharp pain in her chest and she gasped. Since leaving a few days ago, she had forbidden herself to even think of him. Of course, it hadn't worked – he continued to pop up in her thoughts several times each day. Even hundreds of miles away, she could feel him and knew without a doubt, she could draw him to her via their entwined songs, what most called a stream. She didn't dare though, it was simply much too dangerous. She could never be selfish enough to involve Sapphire Lake with her problems. Maybe now that she had left, Simon would leave as well and Cayson, Carson and the others would be safe.

  Suddenly her head shot up. She could feel something inside, something different. Something that shouldn't be there. Instantly she hummed a bit, just under her breath and closed her eyes, searching in her own mind. It was strange, but familiar at the same time, like she had felt it sometime before. With a bit of concentration, she figured it out.

  “Carson! Get out of my stream,” she hissed then threw a blast of dissonance at her, just as she had done once to Cayson. It worked. The other presence was simply gone.

  She opened her eyes and blinked. Bea was standing beside the table with a plate containing a golden brown sandwich and fries upon it. Slowly she sat it down on the table. “Honey, are you ok?” she asked softly.

  “Yes ma'am,” Zandria replied and dropped her eyes to the plate. Suddenly her hunger was gone. “How much?” she asked and picked up her backpack.

  Bea looked around for a second and then slid into the bench across from her. Taking the girl's hands, she looked at her. "Way too many years working in places like this; you see all kinds of people and after a while you get to where you can pretty much read 'em just by sight. If I had my guess, I'd say you were a runner. I can't tell you what to do, sugar, you have to figure that out all for yourself. But one thing I have learned in all the years I've been on this old world is that when you have something going on in your life, it's better to embrace it and not run from it. Maybe your problems are big. Maybe they are bigger than the whole world to you, but running away from them never solves them, it just delays them. Someday, you will have to face them and the question then is will you let them own you or will you own them?” She squeezed Zandria's hands and gave her a smile. “Now, I suggest you eat that dinner there before you take off again. Even if you don't think you can, you should. Mac back there makes a mean grilled cheese and I have to say our seasoned fries are the best you'll ever eat.” She winked at her then slid out of the seat.

  Zandria watched her leave again and then looked at the sandwich. It did look pretty good. Picking it up, she took a bite of the golden brown, melted gooeyness. It was quickly followed by one of the fries and she felt her hunger return. Bea was right, it was delicious. Now, if only she could be right about her other problems as well.

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  Carson gasped, her senses reeling and her head pounding like a jackhammer. She felt the wooden porch under her back and head, the roof of the pack house porch swam above her. She groaned and closed her eyes again. There were hands touching her face
and her neck then something wet brushed over her face followed by words that she couldn't quite hear over the thudding of her heartbeat. She pushed the hands away. “I'm ok, just give me a minute.”

  They gave her several then helped her into the building. Once she was settled onto the sofa in Jeff's office and a glass of water pressed in her hand, she finally stopped shaking and got her racing pulse under control.

  “That is positively the very last time you will ever do that dreaming stuff,” Chase snarled. He was pacing back and forth raking his auburn hair with his fingers. “I knew something bad would happen.”

  Jeff ignored him. Chase was stressed and would eventually calm down. “What happened, Carson? Just take it slow.”

  She nodded, quickly taking them through the events leading up to when she discovered she was trapped in Zandria's stream. Chase's face was drawn and he sat down beside his mate and took her hand in his.

  Cayson stood up and started to pace next. Rachel watched him for a couple of minutes and smirked. “If we're taking turns walking the floor, mind if I sit this one out? I've had my exercise for the day. Trying to keep up with Mama Wolf there is a full cardio.”

  Carson chortled and the tension melted from the room. “Thanks Rach,” she grinned at her best friend who winked back at her. Turning back to her father, she continued her narrative. “So, I was stuck in her stream, with no escape and starting trying to think of a way to get out.”

  “We figured out something was wrong and broke the physical contact between you two.” Chase said. “But you just sat there with your eyes closed like you were in a trance.”

  She nodded. “I've seen a dreamer get snared once before. Normally a dream will end once the physical contact is broken, but sometimes when a dreamer is snared, their stream gets so entangled that it lives in their target. It leaves the dreamer's body with an empty shell and often takes an Elder dreamer to unsnarl the streams; that is, if it's even possible.”

  Beside her Chase squeezed her hand. “When I think that I almost lost you...” His face turned pasty as the color drained.

  She leaned against his arm. “You didn't lose me. As I was saying, I thought I was snared but it turns out I wasn't so much snared as misplaced. See, when the scene I was in ended with her fading out, I found myself in another stream. At first I thought it was Cayson's but then I realized it wasn't. I was in Zandria's real stream.”

  Everyone started speaking at once. Jeff stopped them. “Let's just calm down and let her finish.” He gave her a nod. “Go ahead.”

  “Once I ascertained I was within her stream, I looked for the median. That's the point where past certainty becomes future possibility. The first strong image that came along, I jumped into it on the past side of the median, meaning I was looking at her very recent past. I saw the rear of a large RV pulling away out of some sort of truck stop parking lot and the memory of having just left it still fresh in her mind. The image didn't last very long before I was thrown out of it and back on the median. Since the recent past didn't help much, I turned to the possible future. Granted, I hate dreaming in the future because the images are so fuzzy and uncertain, but if I figured if I stayed with one that was nearest the median, it should be fine. So I picked one and jumped in.”

  Jeff leaned forward and propped his forearms on his knees. Beside him, Cay had stopped his pacing and was holding his breath. She continued.

  “I found myself sitting in a booth of the truck stop diner, watching the people moving around. There was a waitress with streaked hair and for some reason, she really had Zandria's attention. It only lasted a few seconds and then, just like last time, she found me in her stream and threw me out. Next thing I know, I was waking up here on the porch.” Carson looked at her brother. “Zan's missing you really badly, Cay. Before she threw me out, she was thinking about you and I felt her heart constrict. Whatever she's gone through, it has to be pretty major to drive her away from you.”

  “Thanks, Squirt,” Cay gave her a half smile. “At least she didn't run off because she hated me.”

  Rachel chewed her lip. “Ok, so you saw the truck stop, but only for a couple of seconds so I take it you're not sure where it is. What about the rv? If you saw the back of it, maybe you saw a tag number? I could call a favor in from Kevin.”

  Cay looked at Carson, his eyebrow arching quizzically. “Kevin?”

  “Kevin is the highway patrol officer that came between Billy the fireman and Jim the Doctor.” Carson answered him.

  “Ah,” Cayson replied. “Another C.O.R.”

  “C.O.R.? What's a C.O.R.?” Rachel's brow was furrowed at them. “And it was Robby that came between Billy and Jim. Kevin was before Billy.”

  “Casualty Of Rachel,” Carson chuckled softly, her eyes glittering merrily, "and yes, I have the tag number. Maybe whoever was driving that rig can give a little insight on where she was going.”

  NINE

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  After two more days, four rides and several hours of walking, Zandria found herself standing under the shelter a rest stop tucked into an area off the Interstate. Overhead, several fat, heavy drops began to fall creating a staccato that echoed in the relative quiet that she had been enjoying. Forcing her weary body forward, she made her way around the side of the red block building to the door marked 'Women' and pushed it open, going inside. Being well after midnight, the room was empty – luck was with her it seems and she would have a dry place to sit out the rainstorm already intensifying outside. She entered the last stall and locked the door behind her. When she had shimmied out of her backpack and hung it on a hook on the back of the door, she lowered the lid and sat on it.

  Every muscle in her body ached and her joints screamed. Rolling her head a few times, she rubbed her neck and tried to work a few of the kinks out of it. Leaning her head back she closed her eyes and tried to relax.

  “Ok, think. How did you do it last time? Come on now, we can do this,” she mumbled to herself. For what seemed like the hundredth time since leaving Sapphire Lake less than a week ago, she tried to figure out how to teleport herself. Last year, she had somehow moved herself from Leeco to Sapphire Lake but the ability completely eluded her now. It would be so much easier if she could just make herself arrive in New Orleans instead of having to walk and hitchhike the whole way. After several moments, she gave up in frustration and hit the wall of the stall with her fist. “Ow, ow, ow,” she hissed and shook her hand.

  The bathroom door opened. “Where are we, Momma?” she heard a child's voice ask.

  “Just outside of Memphis,” an older woman snapped. “Hurry up, you know how your father gets this late.” There was the sounds of the two going into stalls, and a few moments later, they had finished, washed and left. She was alone once again.

  The rain stopped a little after five that morning, and the sudden silence on the roof awakened her. Zandria used the sink to wash before changing into her last set of clean clothes; a pair of worn jeans and an equally worn tee. She'd have to find a Laundromat today. Good thing that she was close to a major city. She may be on the run, but that was no excuse to be dirty. Her mumma taught her better than that! A quick stop at the vending machines for a soda and bag of chips for her breakfast, and she was again on her way.

  Less than a mile from the rest stop, a car pulled up beside her. “Hey. You need a ride?”

  Zandria looked in the car carrying a man and woman of about thirty-five or so years old. She hummed softly, reaching out to their song to test if she could trust them. After a moment, she smiled at them. “Thanks, but I think I'm going to walk for a bit and stretch my legs.” She stood up and took a step back onto the grass shoulder.

  “Suite yourself, girly,” the man mumbled and threw his car into gear.

  Zandria watched him pull away, letting her guard down just a bit. The woman seemed alright, but the man's song had a disturbing dissonance to it. Maybe it was nothing, but then again, maybe it wasn't. Either way, it was be
tter to err on the side of caution. Redistributing the pack more comfortably on her shoulders, she turned back west and plodded on.

  It was strange, how her abilities were progressing. Ever since her sixteenth birthday, she continuingly surprised herself with what she was able to do; calming people, healing minor injuries and even locating others. She had been called a fatavoce, a song maiden, and other than having something to do with her voice she didn't really understand it. If only she could learn to control it better. She sighed. "If only and buts were candy and nuts, everyone would have a lovely Christmas," she mumbled. It was one of Grandpa Adam's favorite sayings.

  As she walked, the sun continued to climb into the cloudless sky along with the temperature. A thin sheen of sweat beaded on her face as trickles ran down the middle of her back and between her breasts. Dear Luna, but it was hot! Pulling a half full bottle out of her pack, she twisted off the cap and took a good drink of the warm water before closing it and replacing it in her backpack. Traffic was getting heavier the closer she got to Memphis, maybe she could get a ride soon for the rest of the way. Honestly, the thought of additional walking made her feet ache even more than they already did. However, if there was a plus to her current situation, it would be that she definitely had lost some weight over the last week. She was, by no means, skinny, but her clothes were much looser, and dare she hope that her legs seemed a bit tighter? If only Cayson could see her now.

  Silently she cursed herself for thinking of him. She foolishly believed that the further she got from him, the less he would be cropping up in her mind. Instead, the exact opposite occurred. If she made it an hour without thinking of his green eyes, deep black hair with the cute curl over one eye, rugged handsome face and perfect nose, (not to mention his hard muscular body), then she would count herself lucky. She sighed as her heart thudded in her chest. Ok, so she missed him - she missed him a whole lot. Wrapping her arms around her curvaceous waist, she bit her lip and forbade herself from crying. Really, there was no good in crying over spilled milk or lost love. But, as was normal with her lately, her eyes didn't listen and hot salty tears joined the sweat on her face. Putting her head down, she mentally kicked herself into gear and started walking again.