“Maybe it’s free,” Hayden whispered. “Immortals are loaded. The more ancient they are, the richer they are. Mom is only two hundred years old.”
Once again, I didn’t want to discuss Tammy. “Eirik said they take care of each other. They must have started this institution to take care of their crazy people.”
“I’m not surprised. You should have seen the country club where they kept me after that kidnapping fiasco. It looked like an exclusive resort. Mom’s been filling in the gaps since we came back. She might know more about these facilities and why they’re necessary.”
She was hinting I talk with her mother again. As if I’d ever trust anything Tammy said. We left the bathroom and almost bumped into two staff members. They were the same ones who’d gawked at Hayden.
“Where did you come from?” one asked, staring at me.
“I came with her.” I walked around them.
“Did you see her go inside?” I overheard her ask her friend, but we didn’t hear her partner’s response. I gave up on trying to wear my glasses and pushed them into my hair.
The attendant at the information desk frowned when she saw me. “How did you get inside?”
“She opened a portal into the bathroom,” Hayden fibbed.
The woman scowled. “No one can do that. This facility is protected against incoming and outgoing portals.” She gave me a pointed look. “How did you do it?”
Of course, I wasn’t telling her about my cloak. “I used special runes to bypass your security ones. We are here to see Marguerite Deveraux.” I hoped she still used my father’s last name.
The woman studied me with narrowed eyes. “And you are?”
“Her daughter.”
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes and when she spoke, she lowered her voice. “Are you the daughter with a special connection to the gods?”
The Immortals knew about me too? Cool. “Uh, yes, that’s me.”
She exchanged a glance with the guy who was typing on his computer. He was probably checking if I was authorized to visit Marguerite.
I tugged Hayden’s arm and whispered, “Do something.”
“I’m already on it. Uh, guys,” she said to draw their attention. “We won’t be on the allowed guest list,” she told the man, and smiled sweetly. “But you’ll take us to her anyway.”
“Of course,” the female attendant said, confusion on her face. “Do you want a record that you were here?”
“We don’t,” Hayden said.
“Then you were never here.” She touched the man’s arm, and he closed the window. The woman walked around the desk and joined us. “My name is Paula Beechen. I’ll take you to Ms. Marguerite.”
Hayden’s mind control mojo was potent. This was the first time I’d heard her speak while messing with someone’s thoughts. In the past, she’d hidden who she was and her gifts when around me. I understood about hiding her immortality, but her gifts? Had her mother coached her on what to do, or not do around me? I seriously needed to talk to her, so I could stop second-guessing everything she did and said.
Hayden stopped walking and waited for me to catch up. She searched my face. “What is it?”
“Do you think she’ll talk to me?”
“From what I saw during your last meeting, she loves to hear her voice, especially when she berates you.”
Yes, Marguerite was quite vocal last time, even though everything out of her mouth had been a lie and hurtful. I didn’t want her to remember how much she hated me, but at the same time, I hoped she was lucid enough to answer my questions.
“What if she’s on her meds and loopy?”
“We’ll just have to come back again.” She indicated Paula, who was ahead of us. “We’ll keep making her do our bidding.” She stopped talking when we entered a hallway.
To our right, patients—or residents as Paula referred to them—were lounging in chairs, playing board games, or dancing. Interestingly, most of them were young. They looked like they were in their teens to early twenties. And they looked nothing like crazy people. My idea of a mental home had patients in straitjackets, walking around aimlessly like zombies, rocking back and forth in the corners of the room, or banging their heads on the wall.
We rounded a corner, walked past a dining hall, then session rooms with chairs grouped in a circle. All of them were empty, except one with residents painting on easels. Once again, I noticed how young they were. A few looked pre-teen. We entered an even broader hallway with glass panels on all the doors. We peered inside one of the rooms and exchanged a glance. It had a queen-size bed, couch, floor rugs, and fresh flowers.
“Why would anyone want to leave here?” I whispered.
Hayden grinned. “I know. I’m waiting to see the tennis courts, an Olympic size pool, and fully equipped gym.”
“Don’t forget a spa for facials and massages. Did you notice how young some of them are?”
She nodded and shuddered. “I wonder if I would have ended up here if Mom hadn’t adopted me. Ask Paula what this facility is about,” she whispered.
“You ask her,” I shot back.
“You are the one connected with the gods. Bet you could tell her to jump and she’d do it. She’s scared of you.”
I doubted it. More like scared of Eirik. “What exactly is this facility for?”
Paula slowed down and gave me a weak smile. I could tell she just wanted to dump us with Marguerite and leave.
“It is a treatment center for girls and women trying to cope with their abilities. Most of them are children of Immortals dealing with sudden appearance of unique powers inherited from their parents.” She glanced at Hayden before adding, “I’m talking about orphans. Quite a number are traumatized by these changes. The lucky ones adjust and move on to lead a healthy life while others withdraw from the world or turn violent, becoming destructive to those around them and to themselves. They always end up at one of our facilities. We help them accept that what they are is normal, then send them home.”
“Are there facilities like this all over the country?” I asked.
“No, SH is one of a kind because it’s for women only,” Paula said. “We have one for men. We have a couple of co-ed homes for the younger generation, one for tweens and younger, and another for older teens. The rest are resting homes, where residents re-invent themselves or disappear for a few years while they plan the next stage of their lives. Then there is assisted living for those who’ve stopped using runes and are aging, but have no one to take care of them. It all depends on which facility you end up in.”
“So you don’t have tennis courts, swimming pools, and mud baths?” I asked. Hayden snickered and Paula smiled for the first time.
“Yes, we do have those,” she said. “We also offer yoga, t’ai chi, and gardening. Anything that calms the mind.”
Sounded boring. “I saw young girls in the painting room. How old is the youngest resident?”
She frowned. “Twelve. We recently acquired a few pre-teens.” From her voice, she wasn’t happy about it. “Talking with the older girls and women is supposed to help them feel less alone.”
I wondered why Marguerite was in the home. Had misinterpreting her visions driven her loco? Or maybe she’d grown worse after she became an Immortal? And who was crazy enough to make her an Immortal?
“Why do you employ Mortals? Won’t they learn the truth and reveal your secret?” Hayden asked as we started down another hallway with private rooms.
“To the locals, this is a rehab for girls,” Paula continued. “Remember even some of our century-old residents look younger. Employing locals makes us blend in. However, we make sure they don’t deal directly with the residents. Mortals might be curious, but they are blind and tend to have a simple explanation for what they don’t understand. If they overhear the girls howling or talking about seeing dead people, it only re-enforces their belief that they are dealing with junkies.”
After one more hallway with doors leading to an indoor pool and w
hat looked like a dance studio, we exited the building. A group of girls in flowing white or light-green dresses were tending the herb garden, but my mother wasn’t one of them. They appeared to be in their twenties, which meant they could be centuries old. The younger generation was the ones inside lounging around doing nothing. What would cause someone who’d been around for ages to go crazy?
“Where’s Ms. Marguerite?” Paula asked a staff member.
“In the green house.” That came from one of the staff members keeping an eye on the group. The green house was at the end of the garden.
We followed her to the glass house to our left, expecting more residents. There was only one person inside the green house. She was watering orchids and wore a suit, not a dress like the other women or a uniform like the staff. I exchanged a glance with Hayden. She looked just as confused as I felt.
Paula cleared her voice. “Ms. Marguerite.”
She looked up, saw me, and her eyes widened. “Celestia! Oh, sweetheart. You are okay.” Marguerite closed the gap between us and pulled me into her arms. Too shocked to do anything, I stood stiffly while she hugged me. “I’m so happy you are back. When they told me you’d slipped into a coma, I prayed and hoped—”
“That she never wakes up?” Hayden asked.
“Of course not.” She leaned back and threw Hayden an annoyed glance. “I hoped it was your body needing time to heal and that you’d return to us. I need to make amends for the past.”
“That would take a lifetime, lady,” Hayden retorted.
“Possede!” Marguerite snapped, using the Creole word for “bad child.” She ignored Hayden and hugged me close. “If Tammy had taken a switch to your butt when you were young, you would not have turned into such a disagreeing child. Thank you, Paula.” The woman scurried out of the room, clearly eager to leave.
Silence followed as Marguerite rubbed my arms and even dropped a kiss on my forehead. I tried not to cringe, but I couldn’t help it. She gave me the creeps. I couldn’t come up with anything to say either. Her reaction threw me off kilter. Also, I’d convinced myself she was a resident here, not a staff member.
“I’m so happy you are safe and okay, Celestia,” Marguerite said, her eyes tearing. “When I was told of what Angrboda did to you, I blamed myself. I should never have believed in her.”
“You do know she’s not a goddess,” Hayden said.
Marguerite ignored her. “Let’s go to the office. I want to hear about what happened. All I got were hearsay from those who were there.”
“Who told you about what happened to her?” Hayden cut in. “None of the orphans were there, and my mother doesn’t remember a thing.”
Hayden said exactly what I was thinking, but couldn’t say. I wasn’t sure whether Marguerite was really sorry or just playing some mind game. Part of me wanted to buy her act. She was my mother after all. But the other part questioned everything she did. Three weeks ago, I’d seen her go from angry to a weepy, whiny person in seconds, a clear sign she had a few loose screws. Just how many screws were there and how soon before some fell and left her completely unhinged?
“Would you mind if Hayden waited for you in the front room while we talked?” Marguerite asked, and panic washed over me. I didn’t want to be left with her.
“No chance in Hel’s Mist of that happening,” Hayden shot back and saved me from answering her. Relief chased the panic away. I knew that voice. She’d stick by me no matter what I said.
“She can stay. I heard you were looking for me,” I said quickly to stop what was brewing between her and Hayden.
“Yes, I was. Like I said, I want to make amends for the way I’d treated you as a child. I was a horrible mother because of Angrboda. I started communicating with her when you were a baby, you know. Horrid goddess. Come to my office, so we can talk.” She took my arm, and once again, I tried not to cringe.
As we left the green house, I glanced over my shoulder at Hayden who was looking at me like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had. For once, Marguerite wasn’t being hateful. In the back of my mind, I knew it wouldn’t last and that she probably had an agenda, but I was willing to give her a chance to see what game she was playing now. Forgiveness was something I’d learned from Eirik, but I didn’t think Marguerite deserved one yet. You give people chances when they showed real contrition. So far, she was all talk.
“Yes, this is my daughter, Celestia. She’s come to visit me for a few hours.”
Her words brought me back to the present. She had introduced me to the women in the herb garden. They smiled and nodded. We entered the building. Instead of using the route we’d taken earlier, she opened a door, cut through a deserted classroom, and appeared in another hallway.
“How long have you worked here?” I asked, trying to act normal.
“Going on seven years. I don’t know if you know, but I was a high school counselor before I had you, so when I heard there was an opening at one of the facilities, I snatched it up.”
“When did you become an Immortal?”
“A year after I left you. I should never have left. But I thought you were better off with your father. I was a mess and my visions were off. It didn’t help matters that I was getting instructions from a demented goddess,” she added.
“She’s not really a goddess, you know,” I said, and her hand tightened around my arm.
“It’s hard for me to believe she is not. It will take a while. I’ve been trying to tell myself she’s not a benevolent one.” She stopped outside a gym, where a yoga class was in session. There were about two-dozen girls in the class. She knocked on the window and the instructor came to the door. “Where are the others?”
“They left the compound, Ms. Marguerite. I thought you gave them permission.”
Marguerite sighed. “I probably did and forgot. Thank you, Lina. Oh, this is my daughter, Celestia. She’s come to visit.”
“The one…” the girl’s voice trailed off.
“Yes, the one I discussed during our sessions. She’s forgiven me for the way I treated her because she understands it wasn’t my fault. I was sick. Lost.” Her voice carried, and I had a feeling she was talking to the entire yoga class. Still, that wasn’t okay with me. I hadn’t forgiven her as she claimed. “Go back and finish your class.” As soon as the door closed, Marguerite threw me a contrite look. “Sorry you had to hear that. During sessions, I share with the residents my personal story. How I let my visions lead me down a dark path and hurt those I loved. It resonates with them, helps them understand that they are not the first to be affected by their gifts. After you, I’m going to face Genevieve and your father and beg for their forgiveness. I hope they will also understand.”
She sounded really genuine. I exchanged another glance with Hayden. This time, I couldn’t read her expression.
Marguerite opened a door into a spacious office and waved us in. “Take a seat. I’ll be right back.”
She disappeared down the hallway and left us alone. I looked around her office. There was a picture of me on her desk. I looked about three or four. It was taken outside All About Kids, my pre-school.
Familiar drawings covered her wall. I recognized all of them since they were all mine, drawn when I was a child. Not just before she left, but afterwards, too. How had she gotten those? I even recognized one from middle school. I’d entered it in an art contest and won. The local papers had written a story about the competition afterwards. She’d cut the piece from the newspaper and framed it.
“Please, don’t tell me you’re buying her act.”
I turned and faced Hayden. “I’m not. To be honest, I don’t know what to think. I was sure it was an act until these.” I waved at the wall and explained each drawing. “I drew some of these when I was older.”
“This is staged, Celestia. She probably had a vision of you visiting and went through old pictures. Your last meeting was three weeks ago and she never showed remorse.”
“I know.” Which made all this confusing. I sat dow
n and sighed.
“I tried to get inside her head just now and couldn’t. That’s never happened to me before. Why block me if she has nothing to hide?”
“What if she’s changed?”
“Really? This fast? Don’t let her win you over with empty words and drawings,” Hayden whispered just as Marguerite returned. A woman followed her with a tray with three glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. “And don’t touch the drink. It’s probably poisoned,” Hayden added.
I wasn’t planning on drinking anything. Marguerite introduced me to the cook and completely ignored Hayden again; then she poured drinks in the tall glasses and took one. “To you, my daughter. May you continue on the wonderful path you’ve chosen and may all your dreams come true.”
I picked up the other glass, but Hayden shook her head. She looked ready to knock it out of my hand. I waited until Marguerite sipped hers before bringing mine to my lips. I tilted the glass, but didn’t take a sip. I placed the glass down.
“So what do you want to know?” Marguerite asked. “Ask me anything.”
“Actually, we’re not here to sing Kumbaya and give you absolution,” Hayden said. “We are looking for your daughter, Anne Marie.”
Marguerite went pale. She turned slowly to face me and tilted her head to the side as though thinking. Her lips curled up and her right eye twitched. There were certain things I hadn’t forgotten about her. The way she would lull me into believing she was about to be nice, and turn mean. Whatever was about to come out of her mouth would be a lie.
“Yes, I adopted Marie. I thought she was an orphan like the others, but it turned out she was more. Angrboda asked that I adopt her, and when the Webbers were taking the orphans, she asked that I send her with them. I didn’t know she was Eirik’s sister until the orphans came back and told me.”
I wondered which part of that story was a lie. I wanted to ask her which orphan gave her the information, but someone rattled on the door and a woman stuck her head into the room.
“Ms. Marguerite. We have a situation in the basement.”
Marguerite stood, the smile disappearing from her face. “I’ll be down shortly.” She waited until the woman left before adding, “I’m sorry I have to cut our meeting short. But we should meet again. Maybe go for coffee?”
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