Huh? “What do you mean? Do what?”
“You helped me take away her pain . . . pull it into myself . . . then get rid of it.”
I squint, cocking my head to the side in disbelief. “No I didn’t, you did. I was just trying to keep you calm so you could focus. I remember how hard that always was for you.”
He laughs. “Yeah . . . still is.”
Oh, crap. Dhelia. How’d I forget about her? “Dee, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She pulls off her seat belt then twists around to face me. “No. I’m better than fine. I feel great. I seriously thought I was having a panic attack. I tried so hard to control it, but the harder I tried, the worse it got. I’m so sorry, Dru.” Her eyes well up, turning to her other half.
“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. I know you weren’t doing it on purpose. Please don’t cry, Dee.” Dru lays his hand on her knee.
Dhelia turns to face me again. “Thank you, Chloe. Seriously. Thank you.”
Whoa. Where did that come from?
“Ah . . . you’re welcome.” I barely did anything more than make a few minor suggestions to help him breathe.
But I’ll leave it alone. These moments are rare, so there’s no sense spoiling it.
Dru puts the car in drive, pulling back onto the empty country road like nothing happened. I notice him watching me in the rearview mirror with a grin on his face. We just had a breakthrough. And like me, I think he knows it’s only the beginning.
Dhelia leans forward to turn on the radio as Dru opens the sunroof, allowing the perfect sixty-five-degree May morning to permeate through the car. Now that feels fantastic.
I smile, leaning back to enjoy the wind—and this moment. This is a much better way to start the day.
Ten minutes later we make it to the hospital, but no one’s in sight near Pap’s room. We head to the nurses’ station, only to learn they’ve taken Pap down for a few tests. Gram and Aunt Morgan must have gone for a walk to stretch their legs.
It’s extra quiet this morning. Business must be slow on this wing, which is a good thing. Either that or most are still sleeping. No worries—we’ve come prepared. We brought books, newspapers, magazines and a deck of cards. The latter was Dru’s doing. Since the waiting room is empty, we find the most comfortable corner to settle in for the day.
About twenty minutes after we sit, we hear familiar voices coming down the hall. Gram beelines straight for us. “Good morning, kids. How’d you sleep?” Her smile as warm as ever. My heart breathes a sigh of relief.
The three of us look at each other and shake our heads, but I answer, “Not too bad. Had a dream that woke me up, but other than that, I slept well.” It’s the perfect time to start paving the way towards sharing my vision.
“And how about you two?” She studies them with curious eyes. They turn to each other again, both seeming unsure of how much they should divulge. “Okay, out with it. What’s going on?”
After a brief hesitation, Dhelia speaks up. “Well, I sort of kept Dru up all night with my worrying. He was super pissed at me this morning, but I tried to tell him I couldn’t help it. I’m worried. It’s not like I can fake it or anything.”
Gram nods in agreement. “That’s true enough, dear. But you have to realize that because you’re twins, it exacerbates everything he feels from you. Even if Dru weren’t an Empath, he would still be able to feel what you feel. His power just magnifies it to the extreme.” She lifts Dhelia’s chin with her fingertips, kissing her forehead.
My sister’s eyes glaze over. “I know, Gram. I told him I was sorry. I couldn’t help it. I tried though, I really did.”
“I believe you, dear. Maybe your brother needs to realize you won’t always be able to control your feelings. Perhaps he needs to find a way to block you out.” She eyes Dru as though he’s done something wrong.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Chloe saved the day and rescued us both before I had a chance to strangle Dhelia.” He plasters a smug grin across his face as he turns to me.
Gee, thanks for throwing me under the bus, Dru. Brat!
Gram’s mouth falls open. “Is that so? What exactly did she do?”
I feel thirteen again—busted for playing with her Wiccan ritual paraphernalia.
“Well, we’d just gotten in the car to come here. I yelled at Dhelia for driving me nuts with her negative energy then Chloe asked what was going on. Keep in mind I was super agitated at this point. I wanted to break something.” He pauses.
“Go on, dear.”
“Well, I’m not really sure what happened. After I told Chloe about Dhelia, she not only calmed me down, she also kept Dhelia from totally freaking out. It was unbelievable. One minute she’s walking me through slow breathing like I was giving birth or something—then I almost wreck the car—and the next we were pulled over along the road feeling like a huge weight had just been lifted. I’ve never seen anything like it, Gram.”
She rests her hand on the side of her face. “Is this true, Chloe? I thought you didn’t use magic anymore?”
Huh? “I don’t . . . I didn’t. It wasn’t like that. All I did was put my hand on his shoulder to calm him down. Then I helped him focus so he could take away Dhelia’s pain. That’s it, I swear. I might have given him the directions, but Dru did the driving. Besides, I’m a Seer . . . what magic could I have possibly used?”
“That’s a load of crap, Chloe,” Dru interjects. “After I pulled the fear out of Dhelia, it went completely into me. I thought my lungs were going to explode from it hitting me so hard. You walked me through it and told me how to push it away. It’s totally gone now . . . from both Dhelia and me. I can feel she’s calm and relaxed. I couldn’t have done that without you. I’m not that strong.” Out of character, Dru looks annoyed, nostrils flaring with each breath.
I don’t see what the big deal is. I shake my head. I didn’t do what he thinks I did. He just lacks confidence in his abilities. I’ll help him see that, but it won’t be now. We can talk when we’re alone.
Gram stares me down as if she’s seeing me for the first time. What is that for? She moves to my side, laying her hand on my shoulder. “Sounds like someone has more ‘gifts’ than she realizes.”
Before I have the chance to disagree any further, we notice the nurses wheeling Pap back to his room.
We move towards the doorway where Dr. Gaslightwala greets us. “Good morning, everyone.”
We all reply, “Good morning.”
“So Doc, what’s the story?” Dru isn’t wasting time on small talk.
Dr. Gaslightwala takes a deep breath. “I’m afraid the news isn’t good. Since Samuel still isn’t responding, we ran a battery of tests to see what’s preventing him from waking up. Unfortunately, we’ve concluded he’s in a coma. Upon using The Glasgow Coma Scale, he received a seven. A score of three to five likely means fatal brain damage. A score of eight to fifteen means a great chance for recovery. A score of seven means things could go either way at this point.” He sits on the arm of the chair next to Gram.
“An MRI indicates there are no visible lesions, but there’s still a significant amount of swelling from the surgery. We’re putting him on a course of steroids over the next few days to reduce the swelling and to alleviate any pressure on the frontal lobe where we operated. We’ll be monitoring him very closely. As soon as we see a change we’ll let you know right away. Again, I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”
My heart threatens to stop beating from this unexpected change.
Gram leans closer, placing her perfectly manicured hand on Dr. Gaslightwala’s arm. “How long could this last, doctor?”
With his pursed lips and squinched up eyes, he shakes his head. “There’s really no way to tell. Samuel’s a strong man, so there’s still every reason to be hopeful.”
“Okay, thank you doctor.” Gram smiles politely, pulling her hand back.
“We’ll keep you posted, Aurora.” He stands to walk away, leaving us in stu
nned silence.
We knew Pap would have a difficult road ahead of him, but we never prepared for this. No one did. A coma? Are you kidding me?
While maintaining her usual calm, Gram turns towards her family. “Let’s sit down and talk for a bit. There are some things I can’t put off any longer.”
We do as she asks, but shift in our chairs uncomfortably. Where’s she going with this?
“Okay,” she says, taking a deep, yoga-like breath. “I was hoping we’d never need to have this conversation. But out of respect to a promise I made your grandfather, I suppose now is the time.” She pauses, and we patiently wait for her to regroup. No one seems to have a clue what she’s about to say.
“Even though it’s not what I believe in my heart, we need to prepare ourselves for the worst. After we found out about the tumor, your grandfather went ahead and made all sorts of arrangements. You know how practical he is . . . he doesn’t want us burdened with anything in case the worst should happen.” Her eyes fall to her palms. “So he had a will drawn up, along with funeral and burial arrangements. He’s even written letters for everyone.”
We look around the room at each other, panic etched across our clueless faces.
“Now don’t get the wrong idea. He’s more worried about us than he is for himself. He doesn’t want us to assume he’ll be okay, and then be shocked if he should die. He doesn’t want anyone having regrets, either, which is what brings me to the next promise I made him, and quite possibly, the most difficult.” She pauses again, nervously twisting the rings on her fingers.
“Go ahead, Mom, it’s okay,” Aunt Morgan tries to reassure her.
She turns toward her daughter with a look of both fear—and hope—all wrapped up into one. “You say that now, but wait until you hear what he wants.” She hesitates. “He made me promise I’d convince you to bring the boys here to say goodbye. If he should die, he doesn’t want them to live with the regret of not seeing him before he goes. Please don’t be upset dear, but it’s the right thing to do. Deep down, you know it is.”
“You’re right, Mom.” Aunt Morgan grabs her hand.
“You’ve kept them safe all these years, but now . . . wait . . . what did you say?” Gram’s mouth falls open.
“I said you’re right. And he’s right. He’s always right. It’s not fair to keep the boys away at a time like this. I’ve kept them safe for twenty-one years. The simple fact is they’re old enough to take care of themselves now. They’re grown men and I can’t protect them forever. They should be able to make their own choices. Besides, what are the chances the Russo’s have kept our secret all this time anyway?” She rubs the top of Gram’s hand, staring out the window with a rather helpless look on her face. “I’m not going to worry about that stupid pact anymore. I only wish it hadn’t taken something like this to make me realize it. But just so you know, I’d already made the decision before you said anything. Actually, I made the decision before we left California.” A hint of a smile forms on her face as she turns back to Gram.
An imaginary light bulb explodes in my head, remembering Aunt Morgan’s hours of pensive silence on the plane. “Is that why you were so quiet on the way here?”
She shrugs at me apologetically. “Yeah, I guess so. I was afraid for my dad, but I also knew I had to find the strength to bring the boys here. I’ve always known the day would come, but now that it’s upon me, I’m just not sure what to do. Sorry I was so anti-social.”
“Don’t be, it’s totally okay. If anyone can understand how difficult it is making decisions that affect the people you love . . . it’s me.” My eyes dart towards Dhelia.
“Oh, is this my cue to say something all heartfelt and forgiving?” Her posture stiffens, almost as if she regrets the reflexive attack.
Unaffected by the classic Dhelia snark, Gram jumps to her feet, excited by her daughter’s words. “Are you sure, dear? I’m not trying to talk you out of it or anything . . . I just need you to be sure this is truly what you want.”
Aunt Morgan laughs, lighter than she was just moments ago. “Yes, Mom, I’m sure. It’s the right thing to do. Besides, how could I possibly deny Dad this? I just pray he gets to see them before . . . .”
“Don’t you dare talk like that.” She pushes Morgan’s hand away, an agitated breath pushing out from her lungs. “So when are the boys done with classes?”
“Sometime next week. I’m sure if I talk to the Dean, maybe they can take their finals a few days early.”
“Well, why don’t we find the doctor to see if we can get more information? I don’t know much about comas, so the more we can find out, the better.”
“Okay. That sounds like the best first step.” Aunt Morgan stands to throw her arms around Gram.
“Thank you, dear. I love you even more for doing this.”
My aunt doesn’t say anything, but I can tell by the way she buries her face in Gram’s shoulder she’s still nervous about her decision.
As they embrace, I realize not so much as a peep has come from Dru or Dhelia about the news on Pap. “You guys okay?”
Dhelia gives me her usual eye roll. So much for making progress earlier.
“Dru?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just trying to keep everyone calm and tear free. Man, do I have my work cut out for me with this emotional crew. Geez.” He scans the area to admire his handy work. “But not too bad if I do say so myself. Not a single tear shed.”
After that conversation, I’d say Dru did a great job. I laugh. “Are you okay though, show-off?”
“Of course I am. I can feel Gram really isn’t afraid, so neither am I. Pap’s gonna be okay, Chloe. I ‘feel’ it.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.” But I’m really not convinced.
Gram clears her throat. “Okay, kids. Morgan and I are off to find the doctor for more information before we call Ash and Aidan. Why don’t you kids go get something to eat, or go outside for a walk or something?”
We nod like obedient toddlers.
She’s right. A walk alone to clear my head sounds perfect. “I’m going outside for a bit. Call my cell if you need me, okay?”
Dru purses his lips in annoyance. “You don’t wanna hang with us?”
“I just need some fresh air, that’s all. I’ll be back in ten.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Ok then. I’ll just be here kickin’ Dee’s ass at Texas Holdem.”
“Game on, bee-otch!” Surprisingly chipper, Dhelia bounces her head to an imaginary beat. But I’m sure Dru has something to do with that. Or perhaps it’s because I’ll be out of sight for a while.
“Play nice, children.” I laugh, turning towards the elevator.
Outside the doors, fresh air clears the sterile stench from my sinuses. The smell of hospitals is something I’ve never gotten used to. Not that I’ve spent much time in them. The air is pungent, as much as something clean is capable of being. I know it’s psychosomatic, but it still makes my stomach queasy.
I gaze up towards the sky, admiring the gorgeous day. Not a cloud in sight, a gentle breeze, and cheerful birds singing from the expansive oaks. Hard to believe there’s another disheartening world just beyond the walls behind me.
I sit on an old-fashioned wooden bench, the warmth of the sun’s rays making my alabaster skin tingle. This is just what I need.
The tranquil sound of a sparrow’s song commands the tension in my shoulders to dissipate.
I tip my head back—close my eyes—and relax under the soft breeze kissing my cheeks.
My mind relives the visit from my mother, desperate to pick up where we left off. But as I try returning to that perfect place, my twisted ability takes me to a moment in time I do not want to think about right now.
The future.
Darkness surrounds me then stops as flickering lights from above illuminate my surroundings.
Where am I?
The massive room is unfamiliar, its
Victorian charm cold in its pristine beauty.
Everywhere I look, strangers dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos move rhythmically around the room. I can only see half of their faces from underneath elaborate masks that expose their black-as-coal eyes.
A shiver crawls up my spine, sinking one icy tendril at a time into my skin.
Something about these people is familiar, yet I don’t recognize anyone. Not a single person. But somehow, deep down I feel like I “know” them.
My world starts spinning.
A flash of light blinds me—then my vision clears.
I focus again on these strangers. One minute their eyes appear normal, but the next they turn black again. And then normal, once more.
What’s going on? Who are these people?
Off-balance, the pressure upon my lower back and hand startles me. I’m twirling around the room with a tall dance partner. As we spin in circles, I see the same faces over and over—like I’m riding a merry-go-round.
They smile with the warmth of a friend, but the way it chills my blood frightens me.
The dancing halts.
I look up towards the muscular man who’s holding me in his arms.
I can only see part of his face, but the anticipation now growing inside me says he must mean something to me. He makes me feel safe.
The most beautiful jade eyes with amber flecks stare back at me, his honey-golden hair curling up around the elastic at his ears. So familiar.
Who on earth is he?
I wish I could tear off the mask to see his face.
He squeezes me closer, my chest crushing into his.
My body tingles with excitement. More than anything, I don’t want the night to end. I want to savor this moment.
Haltingly, he lowers his head to kiss me.
As our lips touch, the jarring sound of gunfire and chaotic screams jolt us back to reality.
His arms fall from my waist as panic threatens to implode through my chest.
“No, don’t go,” I whisper.
Everything goes pitch black—then my eyes pop open to the blinding sun in my face.
What the hell was that?
If I don’t know who these people are, why show them to me? Again? Why bother giving me a vision that makes no sense?
“I don’t understand,” I utter under my breath.
Both times the vision stopped on its own without finishing. Is it from years of forcing my visions away? Had I subconsciously created this reflex?
I shift my weight, unable to get comfortable on the hard surface beneath me.
A day ago, I would have been relieved at the realization. Today, however, something in my gut tells me I need to see this vision.
The first vision was similar to the last, but I was able to glimpse a bit more this time. I could sense more. The last one, I felt what was going on in the room around me. The foreboding danger. But this time, I could only feel what I was experiencing in that moment, between this guy and myself.
When is this supposed to happen? My guess is, not anytime in the near future considering the fact of what’s going on with Pap. Plus I have no plans to do anything, let alone something black-tie. It just doesn’t make sense.
Perhaps that’s the point.
I pull my feet up on the bench, wrapping my arms around my bent legs as I lower my head to my knees. “Focus, Chloe. Think. There must be something missing,” I say aloud.
“Chloe?”
“Geez!” I snap, almost falling off the bench as the urban-Adonis interrupts my mental debate. “Hunter? You scared the crap out of me. I didn’t realize anyone was there.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I can see that. Though, you wouldn’t have been able to see me anyway, not with your face buried in your knees.” He pauses. “Is everything okay with your pap? You seem upset.”
“Oh, yeah . . . I mean no, he’s not . . . but that’s not what . . . oh, never mind, it’s nothing.” I shake my head so hard I swear I hear maracas. “I fell asleep and was having a bad dream, that’s all.” I plant my feet firmly back on the ground, yanking down my clinging pant legs in one fluid motion.
A smile spreads across his stubbly face as he watches me readjust. What’s so funny?
Chapter 5
STALK YOU LATER
Tethered (A BirthRight Novel #1) Page 7