The Diamond Bearers' Rising

by Lorena Angell

  Inside the building, we approach the reception desk. “We’d like to speak to the mayor.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” the woman asks.

  “No.”

  “He’s in meetings. You’ll have to make an appointment.”

  “Naturally,” Chris mutters.

  I ask, “When is his first availability?”

  The receptionist examines the schedule. “Well, actually, he has an opening in about an hour.”

  Nodding, I say, “We’ll take it.”

  To kill time, Chris and I wander around the nearby streets, checking out the unique shops and small businesses. My mind is on high alert for anything unusual or odd. Being Portland, Oregon, unusual seems to be the norm.

  Once we get into the mayor’s office, he looks at us and places his hands on the desk clasping his fingers together. He is not a person with powers and that’s too bad. Perhaps our meeting would work better if he understood the cosmic blasts at all. He says, “What can I help you with?”

  Throwing a here-goes-nothing glance at Chris, I say, “Well, sir, we have information about a danger to the Greater Portland area.”

  “Is this environmental?” he asks, not sounding too concerned.

  “Yes, but also dangerous to individuals, to the citizens.”

  “What is this danger? And do we need to involve the head of Emergency Management?”

  “We know of an, um, energy blast that will hit Portland next year in August. A lot of people could be harmed if they’re nearby.”

  The mayor doesn’t move. His eyes slowly move to Chris, then back to me. “Who are you, exactly?”

  “I’m Calli Courtnae.”

  “Okay, and you are?” he says to Chris.

  “Chris Harding.”

  “Are you military or special forces?” His eyes move between us again.

  Chris responds, “No.”

  “NASA?”

  “No.”

  “Terrorists?”

  I wish I could view the future in a quicker fashion. Better yet, I wish Brand were here to help me tailor the conversation. I hardly think Chris’s ability to repeat ten seconds would help at this point. I continue. “No. Please listen to what I’m saying. Many people will be harmed if they are still in the city when the blast hits. They need to be evacuated prior to the blast.”

  “Who’s planning the blast? How do you know about it?”

  “No one is planning it; the blast will hit because of planetary alignment to the source. This only happens once every couple of millennia.”

  He leans forward and lowers his voice. “Get out.”

  “Sir, please.”

  He picks up his phone and hovers his fingers over the keypad. “I’ll call security if you don’t leave now.”

  Chris stands. “All right.”

  As we vacate the office, I hear the mayor give direction to the receptionist to alert security to notify the police if we “wackos” come back.

  Once outside, Chris leans his back up against the building. “Yeah, that went as well as I thought it would.”

  “All my practicing was for nothing. I knew this would be hard, but I at least thought we’d be kind of successful. Maybe we need to talk to the Emergency Management person he mentioned?”

  “I agree.”

  We walk to the building next to the police head-quarters and into the foyer. The directory displays the suite number for the Director of EM. We get in the elevator.

  Chris asks, “Want to bet on how many seconds we’re able to talk before we’re threatened or arrested?”

  “I have a different idea. Just follow my lead.”

  We go through the standard procedure of waiting to see the woman in charge. Once we’re in her office, I say, “I’m writing a novel about a disaster set in a big city. I want to make the evacuation plan believable and I’m wondering if I could base my novel off Portland’s mass evacuation plan?”

  “We don’t have a mass evacuation plan.”

  I literally choke and cough. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to say that.”

  Chris angles his head to the side. “Why don’t you have a plan?”

  “Well, what kind of event would necessitate an evacuation of that magnitude?” she quizzes us.

  I ask, “Earthquake?”

  “We recommend sheltering in place.”

  “Flood?”

  “That would not require a mass evac.”

  Chris offers up, “What about a biohazard spill?”

  “Localized evac.”

  “Or a terrorist attack?”

  “Localized evac.”

  “Nuclear bomb!” He’s losing his cool.

  She leans forward in her chair and rests her arms on the desk. Uh oh. I think we’re about to get the boot. “What kind of a book are you writing?”

  I clear my throat. “A thriller suspense.”

  “What is the disaster in your book?”

  “Irradiation blast from outer space.”

  She sits back in her chair. “So, it’s a fantasy book. What’s it called?”

  “Uh, I haven’t named it yet.”

  “Are there any terrorists in your ‘book’?” She uses air quotes.

  “No.”

  “Listen. Any Portland evacuation plans are online. You can find what you need there. Good day.”

  We leave the office and go back to the hotel to lick our wounds, so to speak.

  “Chris,” I say, powering up my laptop computer. “I’m going to check out what evac plans they do have.”

  “Good idea. We probably should have done that before we arrived. Could have saved some embarrassment.”

  I’m not sure I’ll find anything more than what we were just told, but maybe I’ll get a better grasp of what the officials are prepared to do in emergencies.

  Chris asks, “Calli, when you have visions of the blast, are you in a particular location in the city?”

  “On top of a building, a high rise. I don’t know which one. It’s on the west side of the Willamette River, though. I always see the river and the west hills are behind me.”

  “Okay, that narrows it down. Is it taller than the other buildings?”

  I contemplate for a second. “I’m not sure. I’ll try to pay better attention next nightmare.” I type on the keypad and start my search. Chris places a call for food delivery, then comes over and pulls up a chair beside me.

  The evening wears on as we search page after page, site after site, trying to formulate a better plan to evacuate the greater Portland area. After several hours we remove the bedspread and lie down in each other’s arms, my head on his chest, and continue to hash out possible scenarios. I feel at peace in his arms, empowered, like I can accomplish anything. I close my eyes and listen to his voice, and his heartbeat.

  * * *

  I hear a man’s voice. “C’mon, he went this way.”

  I’m in a forest with him, the middle of fall with brown and yellow leaves on the ground and a grey overcast sky above us. The man and I are hunting. I recognize him as James the hotel clerk. He leads me forward into an area where rocks, twigs, and small branches are suspended in the air, gently floating about. We walk carefully, trying not to disturb our surroundings.

  A shot rings out and splinters of wood from a nearby tree hit my face. We duck for cover. I hear male and female voices yelling indiscernibly in the distance. Before I can zero in on their words, the rocks and branches hanging in the air begin to circle around us as a strong gust of wind picks up speed. Soon we are engulfed in a storm of debris, which scratches my face.

  James cries out to me. “Calli, do something!”

  I reach out with my consciousness and feel the fragments in the air. My mind connects with every object, then I feel a link to the energy controlling the rocks and twigs. I will the air around us to halt. My energy clashes with the energy of the one controlling the storm, pushing against it in a telekinetic tug of war. Everything stands still, trying to move against my will.


  I scream, “James, now!”

  James bolts forward and a deafening crack of lightning erupts from his palm. The thundering boom resonates through my entire body. My ears ring, muffling the sounds around me. My shoulder explodes in pain at the same time as I hear gunshots. My powers dim. Two more bullets enter my stomach and I cry out in agony. My powers are completely gone. As I collapse on the ground the debris storm picks up again. A heavy rock smashes my head, and all goes black.

  My eyes pop open. I’m in my bed, sweat pouring down my face, my heart racing against my ribs. It was just a dream. My mind is blown with what we are up against with the Elemental powers. This vision showed yet another example of harnessing lightning bolts. Clearly James the clerk is going to be affected with that particular ability, and he’ll be fighting on our side against . . . who or what. One thing’s for sure, the energy I felt associated with the debris storm wasn’t human.

  For the first time, I consider for a moment that we should involve the U.S. government in helping to evacuate the city. The fewer amounts of people affected by the blast the better. The question remains: how do we get anyone to listen to us?

  I roll over to cuddle with Chris but realize he isn’t there.

  “Calli, are you all right?” his voice sounds from across the room.

  Sitting up, I turn to face him. He’s standing by the door. “I thought maybe you’d left.”

  “I was just in the bathroom, but I could hear you were restless. Was it a vision?”

  I look down at my tightly clasped hands. “It was horrible. We’re in big trouble with this blast.”

  He sits beside me and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. “What did you see?”

  “The hotel clerk James will be able to shoot lightning bolts from his hands. He seemed to be on our side, fighting against a force . . . I’m not sure what we were fighting against. It wasn’t human. Here, let me show you.” I place my palms against his temples and project the vision I had into his mind.

  After it’s over, Chris reaches up with shaking hands, gently takes hold of my wrists and brings my hands down from his head. His worried eyes meet mine. “What else have you seen?”

  “The visions change all the time. This was the first one of this sort. Usually I’m on top of the building looking down over the city.”

  “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Calli.” He pulls me into his arms and holds me close.

  I don’t know how to respond. It’s not like I chose this path or willingly signed up for the job. Everything was thrust upon me before I was ever conceived. Maetha’s DNA experiments weren’t designed for me, necessarily. I just happened to be the one who became strong enough to complete the task. Knowing what I know, it’s not like I’m going to feel sorry for myself and walk away from everything. No.

  I pull back a little and look Chris in his beautiful blue eyes. “Don’t feel sorry for me. Be my support. We’re here, we’re in this together, and we’re smart. We’ll figure this thing out.”

  “I worry about you, Calli. I can’t help that. I know you’re more than able to take care of yourself. I also know you can take care of me. I guess I worry about the emotional toll all this will have on you. How can I help you with that?”

  “You’re helping right now. Your kisses help even more.”

  His expression has a flash of intrigue as he quickly acts upon my suggestion. The temperature of his lips against mine warms my whole body and any ill feelings remaining from the vision vanish. Healing kisses. And yet, I feel myself hesitating to allow our moment to evolve.

  He must sense my mood change because he pulls back. “You’re worried about being interrupted, aren’t you?”

  “A little. Okay, a lot.”

  He hugs me tenderly. “I don’t want to be interrupted either. Maybe we’ll just need to inform everyone to give us our privacy.”

  “That won’t work with Crimson. The shard connects her to my mind in a way that cannot be blocked.”

  “Well, that’s a dilemma.” He tightens his embrace. “Just being near you is enough for now.”

  * * *

  After leaving Portland with Chris, I’m dropped off in Denver. Chris is headed back to Washington D.C. Our time in Oregon was wonderful, if you don’t count the embarrassing encounters with the city officials. Chris and I did a little sight-seeing and explored the area further, using the time both for ourselves and to check out possible evacuation routes. We drove west to the Pacific Ocean and walked along the beach. Definitely a different experience walking that beach compared to the one on Maetha’s island. Oregon’s coastline is cold, yet strikingly beautiful.

  We concluded that an attempt to evacuate the Portland area by sending people west wasn’t a good idea. The two-lane highways would undoubtedly jam up tight and prevent an evacuation. The city would need to focus evacuations to the north, east, and south, following the main highways.

  Arriving at the Denver house, I find Brand, Anika, Crimson, and Don. We exchange greetings and catch up on the happenings of everyone. I don’t want to ask where Beth is and I don’t want to pry into anyone’s mind to find out.

  I’m finding I value privacy highly.

  Brand talks about his quests of tracking down leads from the Missouri obsidian plant. He’s only hit dead ends. Don is here to hunt for clues regarding the power-removing machine he’s trying to build on the island. His brother, Stan—being the paranoid, conspiracy theorist that he was—left behind loads of information and research about items that might be helpful in Don’s quest. I guess it’s a good thing we never cleared the whole house out. Anika is helping Don and charging a Healer topaz for him.

  I find a moment when Brand and I are alone to ask him some questions.

  “Brand, what’s your biggest hang up about becoming a Bearer?”

  He grunts and dramatically scrunches his eyes closed. “The repeating and future visions. I need the quartz stabilized before I try to use a diamond.”

  “So, you will try?”

  “Only if my body accepts the quartz.”

  “Brand, this is where you’re confused, in my opinion. A diamond would help you prevent losing your quartz. With an eye on the future, you could foresee any event that might harm you or possibly kill you. You could avoid those situations versus thinking you can always repeat out of them.”

  He looks at me as though I’ve spoken magic words. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I’m pretty sure I told you that already, maybe not in those exact words, but I’m glad you’re hearing me now. Besides, holding a diamond and learning how to use the powers doesn’t lock you into becoming a Bearer.”

  He chuckles, then says, “With the way things have been going lately, having a diamond in your body doesn’t necessarily keep you alive anymore.”

  Crimson comes in the room. “Brand, I’d like you to come with me on a task. I need you to help me talk with some special people.”

  “You need me?”

  “Yes. We’re going to go check in with some individuals who have naturally occurring Mind-Control power.”

  I’d heard Crimson talk about these people before and how she keeps tabs on them to make sure they’re not misusing their power.

  Crimson continues, including me in the conversation. “I need Brand to be able to repeat the conversations, so we can get the message across in as little time as possible.”

  “Oh goody!” He rubs his hands together. “Do I get to fly with you?”

  “No. That would kill you. Well, let me clarify that answer. Flying with you would kill you, Hovering wouldn’t. But that’s not a preferred form of travel.”

  Chapter Eleven - Clan Meeting Woes

  Two months have passed since Brand left with Crimson. I hear from Brand every now and then. He doesn’t tell me much, probably because Crimson is present and he has to watch what he says. I look over Brand’s list of addresses gathered from the Missouri plant. I found out later Ruth extracted his memory of what
he’d seen while inside the building and wrote it all down. This ended up being as good as a photograph. Unfortunately, all the addresses I’ve checked on have been dead ends.

  Chris and I were able to meet up in rural West Virginia for another date. We didn’t want to risk him being seen with me, even though Max Corvus has dropped off the map, so we chose an out-of-way restaurant for dinner. I wonder when we’ll ever be able to openly be a couple. How could we get married if we have to keep our relationship a secret? These are questions I have no answers for.

  For now, I’m on my way to the local airport where I’ll join Clara and Beth on Maetha’s plane. We’re heading to South Carolina to attend the clan gathering Clara organized. To say I’m nervous would be an understatement. These people still don’t know the whole story of what happened when Justin tried to reunite the amulet shards. The whole event seems like a lifetime ago to me, but to the clans, they’ve harbored a boat-load of anger over the deaths of their leaders and the loss of the amulets.

  Good thing we’re bringing the quartz prisms to warm our welcome.

  On the plane, I ask Beth, “Have you thought about whether you’re going to become a Bearer?”

  She says, “I don’t know yet. I’m not Unaltered so that would have to change first. I want to be able to be in my little brother’s life. If I’m a Bearer that may not be possible.”

  “Understandable.”

  Beth pauses for a moment, then asks, “How’s Brand doing?”

  “He’s functioning. I don’t know exactly how he’s doing, though. How are you doing?”

  “Functioning.”

  I make an impulsive decision to tell Beth something, without viewing the future to see how she’ll handle it. “You know, Beth, on Maetha’s Island when I overheard some of your conversation, I saw Brand grab something from a tree after he left you. It was his quartz.”

  “Why would he put it in a tree?”

  “My guess is to have an honest conversation with you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  “I didn’t know if I should. I still don’t know. Why? Would it have made a difference?”

  She doesn’t answer. Instead turns her head and looks out the window.