Intuition
( Transcendence - 2 )
C. J. Omololu
As Cole begins to accept her new life as Akhet, someone who can remember flashes of her past lives, every new vision from her past lives helps explain who she is in this life. As her passion for Griffon grows, she learns to identify other Akhet around her, including Drew, the young self-made millionaire who reveals his startling connection to Cole-he was her husband in Elizabethan England and gave her the ankh necklace that has been returned to her after centuries in hiding. Drew's attentions are overwhelming as he insists that their connection in the past signals their future destiny together, but before she can decide who she truly loves, Cole must learn to harness her unique Akhet abilities if she is to ever understand her role in this strange new world.
To my parents, who taught me how to listen
One
The best part about being Akhet is that you remember everything. The worst part is that you forget nothing.
Every day I remember more about the other lives I’ve lived—as a lady in England in the sixteenth century and as an Italian cellist in the nineteenth—but there’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, sitting on the back of Griffon’s motorcycle, my arms around his waist, holding him so close I can feel his muscles shift as he kicks the bike into gear. I press myself into the back of his worn leather jacket as we cut through the wind over the blur of asphalt on the Great Highway, the sun glinting off the waves to our right, the dunes leading into Golden Gate Park on our left.
Peering around his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Griffon’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and I can tell he’s smiling even though the rest of his face is hidden by the helmet. As he turns his head, I can see the very edge of the scar on his cheek, and it sends a shiver of regret through me. The mark is finally fading, but even if it disappears completely, I’ll always know what happened and how close I came to losing all of this.
We stop for a light and Griffon puts both feet solidly on the ground to steady us, reaching down with his hand to give mine a squeeze, the Akhet vibrations between us whenever we’re close now just a normal part of our relationship. It’s these little moments of connection that I love the most—a casual touch on my arm or the way he grabs my hand when we’re crossing the street. The almost unnoticeable gestures that tell the world we’re together. As the light changes, Griffon puts the bike in gear and I tighten my grip on his waist as we surge forward, enjoying the comfort of knowing Griffon would do anything to keep me safe.
As we approach the turnoff to the zoo, bright triangles of color pop against the blue sky up ahead. Dad used to bring me out here to watch the hang gliders when I was little, and every time one of them leaped off the edge of the beach cliff, a scream would catch in my throat in that split second before the wind tossed them high into the sky. Now for the first time I get what that thrill must feel like. As the bike glides along the asphalt, I understand how it feels to let everything go, to trust in something greater than yourself and allow the rhythm and the motion to carry you away.
We pull into the zoo parking lot and Griffon holds the bike steady so I can slide off. I put my hand up to check my ankh necklace, more out of habit than anything else; it was almost four centuries before it was given back to me, and I’m terrified of losing it again. Mine is bright silver with a dark red ruby, while the ankh Griffon keeps tucked into his shirt is plain bronze on a thick black cord. Despite the differences, the meanings of both are the same—eternal life.
As Griffon secures the bike, I glance up at an ancient pink building on the other side of a chain-link fence. As soon as I see the intricate plasterwork over the three doors that face us, a tremor of recognition sends a jolt through me. Despite the fact that I don’t remember it, I know I’ve been in there before.
I loop my fingers through the wire diamonds of the fencing and try to get a better look. The building’s old and obviously abandoned, with different colored paint patches where someone has tried to cover years of graffiti. I close my eyes, trying to prepare myself for the worst, but I’m not pulled into a memory this time—it’s just images and feelings floating through my mind. The anxiety in my chest eases as I realize that I’m not going to be thrown out of my present into another time and place. Not knowing when the blackouts are going to happen has been the hardest part of becoming Akhet.
Looking around, I can sense that at one point there was water here, lots of water—not the ocean, but something that feels almost as big. In my mind I can hear happy squeals and the sounds of splashing. I picture people in bathing suits that go down to their knees, still wearing stockings and tall, lace-up boots.
Griffon’s fingers wrap around mine. “What is it?” he asks, standing behind me at the fence and glancing up at the decrepit building. He bends down and kisses me lightly on the back of my neck, and I shiver. I’ll never get tired of the sensation of his lips on my skin.
I blink a few times to shake the rest of the memory out of my mind. “I’m not sure. I remember water here . . . a lake or something.”
Without any explanation, Griffon understands that what I’m talking about wasn’t just years ago, but decades. Centuries even. “Maybe you came here when you were visiting with the orchestra that time. That would have been the late eighteen hundreds, right?”
“Eighteen-ninety-five,” I say. “That was the date on the newspaper articles about Alessandra’s death.”
A golf cart approaches and we turn to see an old guy in a khaki zoo uniform watching us. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Maybe,” Griffon says. “What was this building?”
The guy squints up at the crumbling carvings and peeling paint. “The old pool house,” he says, frowning. “It’s a crying shame what’s happened to it over the years. Back in the day it was beautiful.”
“So there was a pool here?” I ask, a little confused. What I felt seemed like more than just a pool.
He gestures toward the cars. “Only the biggest one in North America. Ran the whole length of the parking lot—a thousand feet and then some. They say you could even see it from space.”
That makes much more sense. The biggest pool in North America would just about fit.
Griffon glances at me, but neither of us is surprised. When it comes to places we’ve been to in the past, Akhet are never wrong. “When was that?” he asks.
The old guy scratches his head. “Let’s see. I think the pool opened sometime in the late eighteen hundreds. Filled with water from the ocean, but heated too—amazing technology for the time. I swam here as a really little kid, so they must have closed it in ’70, maybe ’71. They paved it over to make the parking lot a few years back.”
The late 1800s. I look back at the faded pink facade, the sounds of laughter and splashing water still echoing in my ears as the man drives away. “It is a shame.”
Griffon smiles sadly at me as we turn and walk toward the zoo entrance. He takes my hand, but doesn’t say anything. He must go through this all the time—seeing something from his past that’s now old and decayed, the echoes of the lives that experienced it still faint in his ears. I wonder if you ever get used to it. Griffon squeezes my left hand gently, careful to avoid the fingers that are still numb from the accident. I love seeing our hands together, his dark skin against mine more of a complement than a contrast. “I’ve got this,” he says, reaching for his wallet as we approach the ticket window.
“No way,” I insist. “Rayne and I come here the first weekend of summer every year. This is our tradition, not yours, so I pay this time.”
Griffon hesitates, but I stare him down. “Okay,” he says. “This time.” He looks around the entrance. “Where are we supposed to meet them?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket.
“I got a text from Rayne while we were riding. She and Peter are heading for the bears; they’ll meet us there.”
I lean into Griffon as we walk through the front gates, still amazed at the way everything turned out. “I’m so glad you introduced them. Rayne deserves someone good.” I feel almost possessive as I look up at him—his beautiful lips with the inviting curve at the top and amber eyes that give just a hint of the abilities that lie behind them. It’s impossible to imagine my life without him in it. “And this way I get to hang out with both of you, and everyone’s happy.”
“I’m definitely happy,” Griffon says, leaning down to nuzzle my neck. “Never been happier.”
I laugh and pull back slightly. “We’d better stop or we’ll never make it to the bears.”
“Okay by me,” Griffon mumbles. “We could just go back to my house and lock ourselves in for the rest of the day. For the rest of the week.”
I force myself to take a step back, the thrill at the thought of being alone with him coursing through my body. Part of me wants to spend every minute with Griffon, waking or not. “I can’t bail on Rayne.” I push him toward the path that goes past the lion house. “This way.”
As we turn the corner, an Asian couple blocks the path, gesturing wildly and shouting things I don’t understand. The man looks frantic and the woman is on the verge of tears, her eyes shining and her face red.
“Hang on a second.” Griffon drops my hand as he walks over and says something in their language. The couple looks both surprised and relieved, and fire off some rapid sentences, pointing up the pathway.
“Hey, Cole,” Griffon calls back to me. His voice is steady, but I can hear the urgency in it. “See if you can find someone who works here.”
I don’t know what’s going on, but I can tell it’s something bad. I feel panic rising as I turn the corner and see a woman in a khaki uniform. “We need help!” I say, pointing up the path. “This way.”
Griffon and the couple rush over as soon as they see us. “They think someone took their son,” Griffon explains, while the parents look on with fear in their eyes. “About two years old. They were with him over by the lemurs a few minutes ago and when they turned around, he was gone.”
The employee gets on the radio to relay the information, and in seconds there’s a crackly response. “What was he wearing?” she asks.
Griffon quickly translates the question and then their answer. “A red striped shirt and a brown hat.”
I hear the description being relayed to radios throughout the zoo, then there’s nothing but static for a few long moments. The man reaches over to grab the woman’s hand, and I see him squeeze it hard. Griffon smiles and says something that I don’t understand, but it seems to reassure them in some way and they both nod in reply.
We all jump as the radio crackles, and the park attendant answers. She grins, and I feel my whole body release the tension that’s been building for the past few minutes. “Someone’s bringing him over—they found him watching the chimps.”
His parents can’t wait; as soon as they spot the employee carrying the little boy, they race over to him, their happy cries not needing any translation. After scooping him up and covering him with kisses, the mother comes back to Griffon and takes his hand in hers, nodding rapidly as she talks.
Griffon flashes his smile and bows his head as she says something to him that I can tell is a thank-you.
“That was scary,” I say as we watch the family go into the lion house together, each of the parents holding tight to the boy’s hand. “What language were they speaking?”
“Mandarin.” He shrugs. “I told you I was Chinese . . . before.”
“Handy,” I say, teasing him to cover up the awe I feel whenever he does something unexpected like this. Putting an overturned chess set back together, each piece in the same place it was before, switching languages without even thinking about it, reading pages of text faster than he can turn them; it’s going to take a lot of lifetimes for my abilities to catch up to his.
“Hey, it was the least I could do. I remember the panic of losing your kid in a crowd.”
I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but that comment hits me full force. Griffon once had a kid to lose in a crowd. And probably a wife to go with it. Reminders of his past lives always sting a little, even though I know it’s just a fact of being Akhet. Our past is always woven in with our present. We walk a little way in silence, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. As we pass the hippos, there’s a rustling in the bushes and a bright blue peacock steps out onto the asphalt, dragging its tail feathers on the ground.
Peacocks roam all around the zoo, but I’ve never seen one this close before. He stands a few feet away, his blue head shimmering almost green in the sun as he tilts it toward us. The bird shakes his body and puffs his tail feathers out for just a second before they settle back on the dirt. Slowly he moves toward us just as some screaming kids run by, sending the huge bird diving for the bushes and out of sight.
Griffon walks to where the peacock disappeared and comes back with a long, shimmering feather in his hand. “Looks like he left something for you.”
I reach out to touch the delicate colors that seem to shift and change in the light. Pulling the strands through my fingers, I feel a moment of panic as I’m drawn into a memory, one that’s centuries older than anything here at the zoo.
“My darling Allison, have you never heard a peacock’s call before?” Connor asks, green eyes shining with amusement as he watches my surprise.
The peacock’s cries are startling as he lifts his head again and opens his mouth to the sky, the repeated caws echoing over the grounds of the manor house and disappearing into the English countryside.
“I’ve heard them from inside the sitting room,” I answer. “But never in such close proximity. There aren’t many wild peacocks in Cornwall, I’m afraid.”
Connor looks at the bright blue birds that peck at the land, looking for their next meal. “These descendants of the original pair have lived on the property almost longer than my family has. It’s always striking that a bird with such astoundingly beautiful plumage would have such a grating and ugly cry.”
“ ’Tis unfair that the males are allowed to dress in brilliant colors and inventive patterns, while the females are simply dull, gray birds,” I tease.
The peacock closest to us takes a few steps in our direction, the blue of his head and neck shimmering like something otherworldly in the sun. As he turns toward me, he raises his tail in a display that takes my breath away—a fan of hundreds of feathers, dotted with blue and green, waving just slightly as he proudly turns so that the colors catch the light.
“It appears you have an admirer,” Connor says. He turns to me, his face all seriousness. “More than one, I’m afraid.”
My heart surges as the distance between us closes and I can’t help but look at him directly. His kind eyes are set in a face that is as handsome as any I have ever seen. I can feel the heat from his body on my skin as he reaches to cup my chin in his hand. “You are more beautiful than any peacock.”
I long to have the sensation of his lips on mine and hope that Mam is right, ’tis only a matter of time before we have leave to be together. Until then, I shall bide my time and play my position to the best advantage. “You make me blush, sir,” I reply quietly, trying to suppress the excitement that I feel.
“I hope I have the opportunity in the future to do more than simply make you blush,” he replies, tracing my cheek with his thumb.
I turn from him so he won’t see the desire on my face. Connor is so capable in every aspect, I’m not entirely convinced that he is unable to read my thoughts. The peacock turns and flicks his tail feathers in my direction, lowering them to the ground as he starts to walk away. He is so close that the feathers brush the bottom of my brocade gown and I bend down to feel the silken strands as they pull through my fingers.
Something tickles my cheek and I reach up to brush it
off, feeling the soft strands of the peacock feather that Griffon’s holding. The image from the memory flashes through my mind and I shiver as I realize that something behind Connor’s eyes, something undefined, is familiar in a way I don’t want it to be.
Griffon’s face shows concern as he studies me. “Everything okay?”
I push the memory of Connor down as far as I can and try to erase the heaviness that’s sitting on my chest. Whatever our relationship was in the past, Connor doesn’t have anything to do with my life now. Griffon and I have been through so much in such a short time, I’m sure we’re meant to be together. We’re destined for each other.
I stand on my tiptoes to give Griffon a quick kiss. “Better than okay,” I answer. “It’s fate that we’re here, in this lifetime, together again.” A chill runs up my spine as I feel traces of the passion and desire that Connor’s green eyes stirred in me. In the sixteenth-century English me. “And you can’t mess with fate, right?”
Two
Maybe you can’t change your fate. But you can change your mind.
“I can’t do this. We need to go back,” I say through gritted teeth, my hands in a tight grip on the bridge’s metal railing—the only thing separating me from certain death.
“I thought you were finally getting over your fear of heights,” Janine says. “After pulling Griffon back onto the roof of a three-story building, I figured walking across the Golden Gate Bridge would be a snap.”
“You’d think that,” I say. My stomach is churning as I stare straight out at the horizon, past the skyscrapers of San Francisco on one side and the hills of Marin on the other, to the point where the dark green ocean meets the edge of the world. “But then I had adrenaline going for me, what with Veronique pointing a gun at the two of us.”
“Come on, Cole. Just look down,” Janine says, bending over the railing toward the water hundreds of feet below like it’s no big deal.
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