by S. B. Niccum
“It was strange though, they came out of nowhere. You and all the other spirits where going about your business and didn’t seem to notice that I was aware of you. But then my parents just showed up! My dad burst in as if he had just ripped through a piece of fabric and came out of nowhere.”
“Yeah … well … like I said, he doesn’t care much for rules. And he is a very gifted person, like you.”
“You mean he had the same gift that I do?”
“No. Not the same, his gift was different. Your mother’s too…all three of you in fact seem to have a different aspect of a very interesting ability.”
“Well, what is it?” I asked after a few moments of silence.
“The three of you are able to poke through other realms of existence. You can hear other realms, your mom can feel and your dad can see. Between the three of you, you could piece together a clear picture of what goes on in different realms.
“As assigned Angels, we only have access to the realm of existence that our charge inhabits. That’s how I can hear your voice and see you and to a certain extent, roam your realm while I’m on the job. But you and your parents … you can technically rip a whole through the fabric of existence on your own.”
“Is that how my dad got through? He poked in, without permission?”
“Sí,” she sighed wearily.
“What’s keeping him from being with me all the time?”
“Your mother, and common sense. If he were to do that, he’d be officially haunting you, and he doesn’t want to do that to you, he’s just hell bent on protecting you … his way.”
“Is that so bad?”
“Who are you talking to?” Alex walked in, out of breath. He had gone for a jog around the island while I stayed behind to clean up and explore the house. I looked up and shrugged, pointing to thin air.
“Oh…” he nodded, “your dead grandma.”
“It sounds freaky when you say it that way.”
He nodded and caught his breath while resting his hands on his knees. “It is a little freaky, but I guess I need to get used to it.”
“Adios!”
I looked up to the spot where the sound came from and nodded. “She’s gone now.” I was glad that Alex took all of this craziness in stride, but I felt bad for him, too. I knew that if I didn’t hear these voices myself, it would be a hard pill to swallow. I worried that at some point he would get fed up and think I was crazy.
“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”
“Don’t forget I’ve seen her!” He straightened and came to my side. “If you’re crazy, then so am I,” he declared, then kissed me.
“If it makes you more comfortable, I can ask her to be quiet; she can do that…sort of. She is very opinionated and a bit bossy, but she has held her tongue from time to time in order to give me my privacy.”
“Honestly, as long as she doesn’t … ”
“She doesn’t,” I assured him, though I did wonder the same thing some times.
“How do you know?”
“They are not here all the time, just when they are needed. She has rules she has to follow, or she loses her post. If she did, she would be haunting me, and that’s strictly off limits.”
Alex nodded. “That’s all I care about!” He leaned over and kissed me again. “I’m going to attempt a shower. Let’s see if there is hot water this time.”
We stayed in Argentina for a whole month, taking weekly tours into Buenos Aires and exploring everything the city had to offer. We even took Tango lessons, and practiced at home. I shopped until I almost literally dropped from exhaustion; there was so much to see and buy! Alex and I got hooked on Yerba Mate tea, and we both gained about ten pounds on pastries alone! The rest of our free time was spent on fixing up the house and restoring it to its original beauty.
We decided that, for the time being, we would rent it out to tourists, but that we would retire here some day. Or maybe even come live here, for part of the year. We could both see the allure of the place. It was well named—Cielo Celeste, Blue Heaven. We flew back home and left the boat docked there; it was too late in the season to sail back.
Four years later we graduated from college, me in Fashion Design and Alex in Political Science. Following in his other grandfather’s footsteps, Alex went into politics. He won his first election as a local representative and, after a term, he ran again, this time for Congress; winning a seat in the House of Representatives in Washington.
I bought a boutique in town, right next to my old workplace, The Apothecary. Some of my designs got national attention, due to Alex’s campaigning, so I started getting orders from all over the U.S. The fact that most of my dresses were ‘recycled’ and one of a kind, only made me stand out and I was soon sought out by some pretty deep pockets. Everywhere Alex and I happened to travel, I visited all the local thrift stores and consignment shops for old dresses and whatever caught my eye. Pretty soon I was adding vintage accessories and other finds.
It seemed that our dreams were all coming true and that life was perfect, but it wasn’t. We lost the Admiral soon after we returned from our honeymoon. He got very sick one day and quietly passed away in his sleep. This was an ironic death for a man who cheated death so many times on the battlefield.
Alex and I also experienced several losses, in the form of miscarriages. It seemed that babies did not want to stay in me. I loved Alex so deeply, it seemed that every day that went by I loved him more, and I yearned to give him children—it was the only thing missing from our lives. This yearning, this obsession almost, of wanting to be pregnant, coupled with the sadness of the losses did something to me. They added a crust of sadness that I never thought I’d be able to get over.
I also kept feeling this odd sensation of pending doom; it was like a waiting for the other shoe to drop, kind of feeling. In spite of some of the sadness, I was overall, immeasurably happy, and that seemed incongruent with my life. Surely I didn’t deserve this much happiness, not me … not the girl who grew up in foster care. There was something hanging over me, a promise, a sacrifice, something that would eventually unravel my whole life.
But not all was doom and gloom. In fact, I think I was the only one who felt this way. Everyone else seemed to be perfectly at peace with life. Katie, especially, who flew the coop and went off to school. After her first year she joined some “save the planet” cause that took her all the way to the Brazilian jungle. She had so much fun that summer that she did it again the following year. Unfortunately for Valerie, an e-mail came through while Katie was away this second time, saying that she had fallen in love with an Australian guy who was also working there and had gotten married. The ceremony was a beautiful aborigine wedding, performed by the local tribe leader. This was too much for Valerie, who felt betrayed by her children, especially by Katie who was her last hope for a traditional wedding. Soon after the e-mail, Katie and her “husband” Jase, showed up at the Preston residence asking for forgiveness, rather than permission.
Valerie and Dane had no other recourse than to like Jase, who was in truth, a very likeable guy. He was shorter than Katie by a few inches; had an upbeat and pleasant personality and that great Australian accent that made every word that came out of his mouth more playful. It was obvious that he adored Katie, and their romance was nothing short of love-at-first-sight.
Not being able to dispute that point, Dane and Valerie welcomed Jase to the family and made the only request that they could; “Live here in the U.S.” And that they did, though they traveled to Australia a few times a year.
Katie had her first child; the same day I had my fourth miscarriage. It all happened in the same hospital, so once I was able to get up and walk, I headed straight for the nursery. Robyn was a beautiful baby with the promise of her grandmothers’ violet eyes. I felt an immediate kinship with her, and resolved to love her as my own. I did have stiff competition with Dane, Valerie, and Alex in the mix, not to mention her own parents.
When Robyn was old e
nough to travel, we all took a family vacation to visit my aunts and Dorian in Mexico. Robyn got more attention than she cared for, and while Luz was taking a turn playing with her, fourteen month old Robyn tripped over her own feet and fell on her head with a thud. The floor was tile, so a purple egg quickly formed on her forehead. While several adults rushed to the freezer to get ice and Robyn wailed, Luz instinctively picked her up and started soothing her with a song.
“Duérmete mi niña, duérmete mi amor. Duérmete pedazo, de mi corazón … ”
As soon as those words came out of her mouth, my senses became distorted. A tingling sensation spread throughout my body, white and black dots blurred my vision, my ears began to ring and my knees buckled from under me.
I heard a scream in my head, then voices … angry … shouting … pleading. Then a cynical laugh and a strangled, “NO!” A shot. Then another, followed by a scream. Steps retreating, crying—no—weeping, bitter weeping, then nothing.
I woke up to see Alex’s concerned face hovering over me. I was lying down on our bed, and he was holding my hand. “Hi, baby,” he crooned. “You passed out.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He stroked my hair tenderly. I knew what he was thinking, but he was wrong.
“I’m not pregnant again,” I told him right of the bat.
Disappointment washed over him, but he tried to hide it. “What happened then?”
“That song…”
“What song?”
“That lullaby that Luz was singing … it … triggered something, a memory I think.”
“Really?”
“I think so. It was fast, like a flash of voices, screams, and gunshots.”
Alex’s face showed alarm and concern. “What could it be?”
“I think I just remembered my mother’s murder.”
Part II ~ The Nightmare
Chapter 28
Dabbing some excess lipstick off the corner of her mouth, Eugenia examined herself in the bathroom mirror. She stepped back a few steps and smoothed the wrinkles out of her suit jacket. This was it! Her big chance to prove to the world that she was not just a pretty face, but also a serious person.
She partied her way through college and graduated, barely, with no significant prospects ahead of her. And by prospects, she didn’t mean a career, she meant, a husband—a rich one—handsome if possible, but at least someone who had a bright future ahead. But none of her prospects ever proposed, and she had the dissatisfaction of graduating with no ring on her finger.
She hadn’t expected this. She wasn’t inclined to work her way up the ladder. Not by earning it, anyway. Eugenia was an overgrown child, who got what she wanted, the minute she wanted it. She was smart, she had the brains, but she chose to use them on manipulation and scheming, rather than good old-fashioned hard work. The thought of doing things the hard way was tedious to her.
Thankfully, her father was good enough to spare her the trouble of finding a job of her own; he pulled a few strings, and one month later, she found herself working for a large hedge fund corporation on the east coast. Nothing important, something menial that required her to dress nice and push a few papers around. She got bored of this quickly, and spent her time, angling for a promotion, since working for it was out of the question. She would climb her way up, the smart way—and she did—by becoming wife number three of the president of the company.
It was a proud day for her. She looked radiant; of course, all her old high school and college friends were her bride’s maids. She was sure that they were all insanely jealous, and were kind enough to play along with the whole, fake smiles and remember when’s.
But now, two short years later, that toad of a husband of hers had lost interest and was currently entertained with; whom she knew would soon be wife number four. So Eugenia found herself in a quandary. She was tired of playing the trophy wife; she now wanted more, she wanted to be envied for being successful. She wanted a career. If she could wave a wand and make it happen, she would do so in a second, if she had Aladdin’s lamp, she would rub it raw. But she didn’t, so as distasteful as it sounded, she would have to some how earn it.
Broadcast journalism had been a dream of hers for a long time. It was serious work, she got to look pretty, and people would see her every day! Thanks to her marriage, she now had all the right connections, but she knew that those would only be connections as long as she was married. So she took the plunge before she became ex-wife number three.
Winking to herself in the mirror, she left the bathroom and started walking briskly down the hallway, to the room where she would do her on-screen test, when a faintly familiar woman passed her going the opposite direction. For some reason, this mysterious woman left her with a distinct feeling of despair that temporarily disgruntled her. Who was that? Eugenia thought, bothered by the woman’s face and the bad karma she left behind.
“Oh good! There you are. Are you ready?” the director asked the moment that Eugenia stepped through the doors.
“Yes, I’m ready.” Eugenia took in some air and slowly let it out. She took her place behind the mock desk and looked down at her paper. The words made no sense to her and she blinked a few times.
“Don’t worry, the same notes will appear on the screen right in front of you,” the director said, pointing to the device.
Eugenia nodded, she knew that much. But she needed to get a grip. What was this insecurity that she suddenly felt all about?
“And … action!”
Eugenia looked at the prompt screen; the camera was right above it. She mustered an unconvincing smile and started reading. Nothing she read made any sense, she sounded nervous and her cheek was twitching.
“Cut!”
Eugenia’s smile faded and she crumbled in a heap on her chair. Her only chance … and she blew it!
“I think we found our new traffic gal!” the director called with a wide grin.
Eugenia squinted. “What? Did you just say I got it?”
“Yep.” The man was now gathering up some cables and moving them around. Eugenia went up to him disoriented.
“You thought that was good? … I mean … I’m flattered, but I was so nervous. I thought I bombed it!”
“You did, honey.”
“Then, why—”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna to hear the answers to. Just promise me that when you are in front of this camera again, you won’t embarrass me.”
“I—won’t, I promise. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, honey.”
“Who then?”
The man smiled wickedly. “My medium.”
“Your what?”
“You heard me,” he whispered, and looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.
“You have a medium? Who has mediums?”
“Lot of people have her as their medium, she is the real thing.” He looked dead serious.
“What does she do?”
“She helps people,” the director explained as he coiled a long cable around his arm.
“She helps people? How?”
“She just got you this job.” His eyebrows rose.
“No, you got me this job. How did she help you?”
“Listen, honey…all her clients are entitled to strict confidentiality, in fact, we all have to sign an agreement that we will not disclose any information. She helps those she wants to help, and that’s all you need to know.”
“Was that her, that I passed on my way here?”
“Yeah, that was her.”
“She gave me the creeps!”
“She can rub people the wrong way at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
“So that’s it?”
The director looked Eugenia straight in the eyes and winked. “She’ll be in touch.”
Eros had been right; operating in the shadows had been the best move for Agatha and her future never looked brighter. They had made their union official a few years ago and he couldn’t have been happi
er to call her his wife, though she still remained indifferent to the title. She cared about him, of course; one could even say she loved him. But the truth was, she was as fond of him as some people are of their pets. She liked to keep her emotions at bay, never letting them get too out of control, if they did, it would ruin everything—like it did with most people.
Agatha had agreed to the title, only because the spirits had approved and they said that it would make her look more established, approachable and trustworthy. They were right. For some reason, it was better for her to show up at social events with Eros in tow. He was older, much older, but he kept himself in shape and had a distinguished look that made him look reliable and solid. While Agatha was the mystic, Eros, was the good ole’ boy who golfed with the clients and put their minds at ease, making everything look perfectly normal.
This combination was a success, so much so, that in a matter of a few years Agatha had a large group of wealthy and well-connected acquaintances that were indebted to her in one way or another. The whole system was based on the old tried and true system of favors and debts that tied everyone to her, leaving her with all the strings. But that was not the whole plan, she was now ready for the second phase of her master plan; the creation of an actual society where there was one more tie—an oath—a blood oath. This phase of her plan would ensure true discipleship and protection from the Source. It would enable all those who entered into the oath to create a mutual safety net of operation, a true fraternity—a society of powerful men and women who would rather die than sell out another member.
This would be tricky, she knew, but it was her dream. This society, like the secret societies of old, had been her dream from day one. Growing up, she never cared for family ties—didn’t have any.
Besides, one couldn’t pick families. But she could choose the members of her secret society, and this thrilled her. Agatha wanted to be associated with only those who brought something to the table—money, talents or gifts—and these she would use to gain power until she became indispensible to those who called the shots in this world.