Heart's Passage

by Cate Swannell

  "Suit yourself, cupcake," shrugged the taller woman. "But you don't know what you're missing."

  Cadie's curiosity warred with the sick feeling in her guts. "You said it was freely available here tonight," she ventured. "Uh...where did you get it from, exactly?"

  The woman laughed drunkenly and swayed a little as she tried haphazardly to apply some lipstick. "Well, you're here so you must be a friend of Naomi's. So I guess that means I can trust you," the redhead said, turning to face Cadie. "Have you noticed the waiters in each corner, not doing much, just standing there?"

  Cadie nodded. She had thought they were security guards blending in with the staff.

  "Just say the word and they'll get you what you need. It's all been taken care of."

  "By whom?"

  The woman laughed, leaning in unsteadily and blasting Cadie with her rancid breath. "Well, whose party is it, sweetie?" She laughed again and stumbled out of the restroom into the midst of the crowd, a wave of party noise taking her place as the door swung shut.

  For a stunned minute Cadie tried to get a grip on what she'd just been told. What she knew about who Naomi was— or rather, who she used to be, Cadie corrected herself—ran headlong into a battle with the information she'd just been handed on a platter. Another wave of nausea gripped her guts and suddenly she knew she was going to throw up. She made a dive for the nearest cubicle and emptied her stomach in a series of wracking spasms that left her clammy and sore.

  "Oh God," she muttered. "I haven't eaten that much in a month."

  She stood up slowly and flushed, leaning against the wall as she waited to make sure she'd cleaned up all the mess. When she looked down into the bowl she almost lost it again. The water sloshed back and forth of its own accord, testament to the wind's effect on one of the world's tallest buildings. Cadie groaned.

  "That's just not right. I am so out of here."

  She quickly cleaned herself up and left the bathroom, looking left and right for the senator. Cadie spotted her, finally, tucked in a corner with a group of be-suited men who seemed to be hanging on her every word.

  Good. She's not going to miss me any time soon, thought Cadie as she turned towards the hatcheck room beside the bank of elevators.

  "Leaving so soon, miss?" the attendant asked as he handed over her coat. "It's not even close to midnight yet."

  "I'm not feeling too well," Cadie replied. "Thought I'd be better off with a cup of hot chocolate and a warm fire."

  "Ah well. Happy New Year, miss."

  "Thanks. You too." Cadie pushed the button for the express lift. The ride down was swift, but did nothing for the equanimity of her stomach. She was more than grateful for the shock of the cold winter's air as she emerged on to South Wacker Drive. Snow swirled around her as she looked left and right along the busy thoroughfare. It was just occurring to her that finding a taxi on New Year's Eve would not necessarily be easy when one magically appeared at the curb next to her.

  "Something had to go right tonight," she murmured as she clambered gratefully into the back. "Indian Hill Road, Kenilworth, please," she quietly told the driver as she settled into the seat, pulling the faux fur coat around her.

  Happy New Year, Arcadia.

  The dream plummeted her into a maelstrom of confusing images and emotions. Everyone she knew was there somewhere. Her parents. Naomi. Sebastian, still radiantly handsome, forever 18.

  There were plenty of nameless faces as well but Cadie felt overwhelmed as they paraded past her. She realized suddenly that she was on a carousel, clinging to a painted pony. Her own hands swam in front of her as they clutched the gilded pole that impaled her horse to the carousel's deck. A wave of nausea flip-flopped her stomach as she spun, faster and faster, the faces of those she loved flying past.

  The carousel's music machine cranked out a tinkling melody that sped up with the ponies, taking on an hysterical quality that grated against Cadie's sensibilities.

  Again nausea washed over her and she wrapped her arms more tightly around the pole, fearful of losing her balance as the pony's up and down motion warred with the centrifugal force of the carousel.

  The swirling faces closed in around her and now Cadie could hear voices. Naomi's sarcasm, her father's constant urging to do better, and her mother's tears. The nameless faces talked too— about elections and fund-raising, lobbying, and drug deals. The voices battered her, melting into a cacophony that pounded against her. Cadie could taste the bile in the back of her throat, could smell her own fear.

  And then she felt another presence, this one behind her in the pony's saddle, a warm, solid body behind hers. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer still. The hands that held her safe were long-fingered and elegant, but there was no mistaking the steel in their sinews.

  "Don't listen to them, " came a low rumble against her ear. The voice was distinctive; a rich alto that sent shivers down Cadie's spine. She tried to turn in the woman's arms but the arms held her firm. Instead, she turned her head, looking back over her shoulder into a pair of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Nobody has eyes that color, she thought. Not possible.

  The dream's landscape changed, the carousel fading away, replaced by a swirling, damp fog. The arms around her waist relaxed and withdrew, allowing Cadie to turn around. But all she could see were the eyes. Even as she watched they began to fade, the fog closing in around them. Irrationally, the fear rose again as the reassuring presence retreated and Cadie found herself wanting to ask her to stay.

  Before she could voice her request, though, that voice came again in her head.

  "I'll always be here. "

  And then, the eyes were gone and the fog closed around her...

  Cadie snapped out of her dream-troubled sleep when she felt the bed move as Naomi slid in. She flicked her eyes to the alarm clock on her bedside table, unsurprised to see its red glare proclaiming 3.44am. I guess I should be grateful it's not dawn.

  She held her breath, praying Naomi wouldn't attempt one of her infamous late-night displays of so-called affection. Thankfully she felt her partner settle into the bedclothes and heard her breathing slow into a sleepy, snoring rhythm. She closed her own eyes and tried desperately to still her mind enough to fall asleep again.

  Disjointed memories of the dream floated back to her but Cadie couldn't get a grip on the details. I felt so safe. And that voice... She sighed. I wonder who that was. Probably somebody I ran into during the campaign, I guess. She put the dream out of her mind and closed her eyes again. Sleep, Cadie, sleep.

  A few minutes later she blinked again.

  No such luck. Cadie resigned herself to a restless night and gently rolled out of bed. Naomi snuffled and mumbled senselessly in her sleep.

  "Hot chocolate," Cadie muttered, "a girl's best friend." She pulled on a thick pair of wool socks and her robe and padded down to the kitchen. As she moved about fixing her favorite winter beverage, she hummed quietly. Then she tucked herself into a corner of the bay window seat, her legs curled under her, and watched the moonlight reflecting off the snow in her backyard.

  Her brain was still spinning from the evening's revelations. She didn't want to believe Naomi was capable of using drugs to get what she wanted out of her political career. But it did make some things start to make sense. Whispered phone calls, late-night meetings that were never explained, and a sudden decision two years ago to split their financial records after a decade of joint accounting, all bubbled up in Cadie's memory.

  Privately she had believed the senator was having an affair. The scary thing was she hadn't been all that upset at the prospect. God knows it took the pressure off her in the bedroom, and that was more a relief than anything. There was something very unsexy about a politician on the make, Cadie had discovered. But this...

  Cocaine. Cadie shuddered. She'd lost her older brother, Sebastian, to a drug overdose when she was eight years old. The trauma had led to a deep-seated distaste for any illegal substances. She had thought her partner ha
d shared that conviction, had been certain of it. Until recently.

  So I guess now we have to have a conversation, Cadie thought as she cupped her hands around the warm mug of chocolate. Quickly she lifted the mug to her lips and drained the last of the sweet liquid, replacing the mug on the table. She sighed and leaned her head back against the cushions of the seat. Great. And we all know I do so well with confrontation. She let her mind drift, and it wasn't long before sleep claimed her.

  She was still there when Naomi came down for breakfast at 7am, clunking around the kitchen grumpily, banging pots onto the stovetop and cursing.

  "Morning," Cadie said quietly from the bay window.

  "Where the fuck is Consuela? I've got a 9am meeting downtown and I'm desperate for some breakfast," replied Naomi, looking decidedly unsenatorial in rumpled pajamas buttoned unevenly, her hair sticking out at all angles.

  "It's New Year's Day, Naomi. I gave her the day off. There are eggs and bacon in the fridge though. That shouldn't take too long."

  "Right. I'll have coffee too. I'm gonna grab a shower."

  And with that she was gone, harrumphing back upstairs.

  "No, no, please allow me to cook your breakfast, Your Highness," Cadie muttered as she reluctantly uncurled herself from her nook. She opened the fridge and pulled out bacon, eggs, and orange juice, then put the coffee on as she heated up the frying pan. Three slices of bacon and two eggs over easy soon slid their way onto a plate, a steaming mug of coffee sitting next to it. Cadie walked back to the window seat, munching on the plate of buttered toast she had made for herself.

  Twenty minutes later the senator re-emerged, buttoning herself into a tailored power suit. She put her briefcase on the counter and flopped down onto a stool, attacking the plate of food.

  "Everything to your liking, Senator?" Cadie asked, trying hard to keep the sarcasm and weariness out of her voice.

  Naomi glanced up and grunted. "S'not hot enough," she muttered.

  "Doesn't seem to be slowing you down any."

  Naomi threw her knife and fork down onto the plate. "What's your problem now, Cadie?" she growled. "And by the way, where the fuck did you get to last night?"

  "Oh, you did notice, then?"

  "Jesus. What, Cadie?"

  "We need to talk."

  "Not now. I've got a full day."

  "Damn it, Nay, you're not the only one, you know."

  The senator snorted. "Come on, Cadie."

  "Come on what?" Cadie exploded. "I can't possibly be as busy as you? And even if I was, it's just not as important as your work, right?" The blonde came out of her seat quickly, facing her partner across the kitchen island, green eyes blazing.

  "Is that what this is about? You're jealous." Naomi leaned over, spitting the words out around a sneer.

  "Yeah that's right, Naomi. I'm jealous of a woman who's sold out every principle she used to believe in and has sunk about as low as she can go. Including, apparently, providing drugs to her financiers in exchange for support. I am so jealous of the political whore you've become." The words poured out of Cadie in a surge of anger she hadn't known she was harboring. But one look at the senator's face made her bite back any further accusations.

  Cold fury oozed out of the stocky woman's brown eyes and Cadie felt a chill. "Whoever you've been talking to, they've told you a pack of lies, Cadie," the senator hissed. "Who was it?"

  Cadie hesitated, thrown by the icy stillness in her partner's attitude. "A...just a woman at the party last night," she stammered.

  "Just a woman? A stoned, high, fucked-up woman, I presume?"

  "Y-yes."

  "So you'd take her word over mine? You'd take the word of a junkie who happened to have the bad taste to hit up in the middle of my cocktail party?"

  Cadie stayed silent. She knew she was no match for Naomi in a debate so she opted not to continue this one. Besides she could feel her stomach wanting to rebel again, a sure sign she was out of her depth. She watched as the senator picked up her briefcase and came around the island towards her. She didn't move as Naomi brushed her cheek with an air kiss.

  "I'm hurt, Cadie. Hurt and disappointed." Naomi smiled a smile that held utterly no warmth. "You're right. Apparently we do need to talk. But I think it's you that needs to do some deep thinking. An apology, perhaps? I'll see you tonight."

  With that the senator stalked from the room, leaving Cadie standing stunned and bewildered in the middle of the kitchen, in her stockinged feet and robe, feeling as if her life had just slipped through her fingers.

  How the hell did I end up here?

  The nightmare wrenched Jo awake like a slap in the face. She choked back the cry on her lips and sat bolt upright, the sheets clinging uncomfortably to the light sheen of sweat on her body.

  It took a moment to wake completely but once she shook off the last remnants of haze Jo slumped forward, her face in her hands, elbows on knees. A splash of moonlight fell across her, turning her tousled black hair silver.

  "Jesus Christ," she muttered. She took several deep breaths in an effort to stop her heart from beating its way out of her chest. It took all her concentration to fight down the panic and rising bile in her throat. She groaned again as flashes of the recurring dream images burned across the back of her eyes. Oh, that was a nasty one.

  Muffled incoherent noises to her right stopped her short and Jo cursed when she recognized the lump under the bedclothes next to her as the woman she'd met in JC's Bar and Grill on the main drag of Airlie Beach the night before. Several stubbies of cider and a bottle of red had apparently convinced Jo that some company was in order. She couldn't remember much about it, she admitted to herself guiltily. Not even...

  God, what is her name? Jo shook her head at her own lack of good sense and clambered out of bed. And more to the point, what the hell was I thinking bringing her back here? Now I'm stuck with her till at least breakfast, she thought despondently as she silently padded across the polished wooden floor through to the living area. She muffled another curse as she stubbed her toe on the cat's water dish on the way to the fridge. She hopped the rest of the way and balanced on the appliance's open door as she surveyed the contents by the internal light.

  One can of Coke left. Time to go grocery shopping.

  Jo withdrew the remaining can and cracked the seal as she wandered to the glass wall overlooking her particular patch of paradise. She quietly slid open the glass door that led to the verandah and moved outside.

  Jo had done all right for herself in the five years since the cold night she had snuck out of Sydney after her brief, but fiery argument with Detective Harding. As she had walked away from him that night all she could think of was getting as far away from the city streets as she could. Sunlight, she had thought. I want sunlight and warmth on my back.

  Peace and quiet had beckoned to her from far north Queensland and she had made her way to the Whitsundays, a long, idyllic group of islands just inside the Great Barrier Reef off Airlie Beach and Shute Harbor.

  Here she'd found a community of like-minded folk. Not that they're all ex-assassins, she thought, smiling wryly. Though I can think of a few who might qualify. They let her be when she needed isolation, and made her welcome when she needed to feel a part of the human race again. Many of the people here were refugees from big-city life who came north to try a get-rich-quick scheme in the tourist Mecca of the Whitsundays, or were just looking for a simpler life.

  And cheaper dope, she reminded herself with a smile. She'd stayed clear of that scene though—too many bad memories. She wasn't averse to a party, the evidence of which was snoring softly in her bed, but an alcoholic haze was the only form of oblivion she felt safe with these days, and that pretty rarely.

  The last five years have been good ones, she decided. Lonely, yes, directionless, sure, but at least I can sleep at night. She laughed at the memory of the nightmare. Sort of. And I'm earning an honest living. Not that she really needed to.

  A decade spent in the darkness of S
ydney's underworld had left Jo a rich woman thanks to a couple of wise offshore investments. She had since removed all her funds from anything illegal and now the cash burned a large hole in her legitimate bank account. Contrition had stopped her from touching those funds, except in one respect.

  The house high on the hill above Shute Harbor had called to her like no other place she'd ever lived in. Nestled into a lush rainforest on the side of the slope, the house was built of jarrah logs and made the most of the sensational views of the islands by being almost all glass on its northeast-facing side. It had cost the earth, but Jo hadn't hesitated for a second, deciding the isolation and panorama were well worth it. There were no neighbors in either direction for over a mile, she was just a 10-minute drive from the dock itself, and the forest around her was laced with the narrow dirt tracks she used for running and getting up close and personal with the abundant wildlife in this part of the world.

  And there are worse things than being hidden away in the jungle. Jo had never been overly concerned about her former bosses and adversaries coming after her following her disappearance from Sydney, even though they had every reason to hate her. She knew she could handle anyone who got close enough to be a threat to her. She'd invested in a top-drawer security system that she maintained meticulously with the kind of caution that had become ingrained in her over the years. Jo had made a concerted effort to get on with her life as if she'd never been a drug lord's hired killer.

  Even now, the thought made her shake her head. Another life. One I don't ever want to go back to or be reminded of. Which was why the dreams were such a pain in the subconscious.

  Jo settled into the rattan chair on the verandah and put her feet up on the top rail. It was hot as only a north Queensland January night could be, damp heat wrapping round her naked body like a wet blanket. There wasn't a zephyr of a breeze.

  Gorgeous night. The sky was cloudless and the moon full, splashing a silver sheen across Whitsunday Passage and Shute Harbor, which shimmered like a mirror. It made her smile quietly. She'd never really known what peace was until she had come here. It was hard to be tense when surrounded by total beauty like this surreal landscape.