Parallel (Mortisalian Saga Book 1)

by L. J. Stock

  “Cass?” Alexa's voice was quiet, but I heard it easily in the muted interior of the car. I'd been so preoccupied that I hadn’t realized I was hearing nothing but silence.

  “It's so quiet,” I whispered, afraid to break the roll we were on. It had been so long since I’d been gifted with utter tranquility, and I wasn’t taking the time to enjoy it. I heard a small laugh from Zander and looked to Alexa whose profile said she was giving him a reprimanding glare.

  “Stop it, Z. I know you remember what it was like learning about all of this.”

  “I do,” he said, turning his head briefly to smile at her. “And I'm living it all again through Cassandra. I don't envy her the naiveté. I would rather know what I know now than be back there.”

  Zander looked in the rear view mirror and smiled apologetically at me.

  “I'm sorry. I know that sounds arrogant, but you will learn more soon enough. I know how it can be to suffer through hearing sounds and not know what they are. I'm not teasing you, Cass. I'm just reliving my own experiences.”

  “The war, though spreading across the country, is pointless amongst cows and grass,” Alexa said thoughtfully. I didn't waste my time asking her to explain. She’d made it clear that there would be answers eventually and I had to trust her.

  It was much safer, and far less frustrating, to change the topic, so I asked them about how they met, which was apparently not off the table. Zander started the story, and Alexa butted in occasionally to add things he'd missed or correct what she deemed wrong. I listened to the two of them go back and forth explaining their past, and it made me envious. They'd had one another from the age of about five, and had been stuck together since. They'd experienced discovering another world and all of its rules together while helping one another through it.

  It wasn't all a happy tale. Zander told me about his brother, who had been through something similar to what I'd experienced, only he'd succeeded where I'd failed. He'd taken his own life when Zander was eight. The topic wasn't discussed, and I didn't ask questions. The car had fallen quiet after his brief explanation, and it seemed to stay that way for a while, all three of us retreating into our own thoughts.

  I didn't bother trying to explain my own experience in defense of his brother, mainly because I couldn't. I didn't remember the decision to retrieve the razor from my brother's bathroom, nor could I remember dragging it up my forearms in a desperate attempt to escape a fate I’d never asked for. Even the pain was something distant, and it had only started after I'd woken up in the hospital. I'd explained this to my therapist and he'd told me I'd blocked the memory. For years, I'd believed him, but the harder I'd tried to remember, the less I seemed to be able to access it.

  There were times I’d tried to dig deeper after my counseling sessions in the hospital, but the recollection was like a black hole in my mind, more reminiscent of a dream than a memory. Even the pieces that Steve had been present for didn’t seem real. Seven years later and it still wasn’t any clearer to me. Lingering on the memories did nothing but bring back all of the pain that had followed. I just knew then that my dad had exactly what he had always wanted, I was no longer a burden or source of guilt for my mom, and Steven would finally have the life he deserved, where he wouldn’t have to worry about his little sister.

  I must have dozed off after losing myself in my thoughts. The very real feeling of a dream seemed to linger like a ghost in my subconscious. The face of the girl I'd seen murdered was loitering behind my eyelids, her scream reverberating around in my head.

  I was even more convinced I’d been asleep when my eyes finally fluttered open, because I didn't remember the scenery turning to walls of trees on either side of us, or the wind that bowed them downwards as though they were looming over us. The blustery sound of the gale whistled around the car unapologetically, but I was happy to find the area was still quiet, devoid of the noises of war.

  It wasn’t long until the car started slowing gradually, coasting as though Zander had taken his foot off the gas. Rubbing my eyes and pushing up from the back seat, I brushed my dark, unruly hair over my shoulders and squinted in an attempt to see anything other than trees and darkness.

  “Where are we?” I asked groggily, my voice thick from sleep.

  “At the farmhouse, but we have to be sure we weren’t followed. Hold on tight though. Zander hasn't done this in a while.”

  “Done wha–” I didn't need to finish the sentence. The lights on the panel dimmed to nothing mere seconds before the lights dancing over the road died completely.

  I could see nothing. The rumble of the wheels on the road beneath us was almost benevolent as the darkness ate everything in its path. I would have closed my eyes, but it was pointless as the scene would have been much the same. There was just the constant yet slowing noise of the tires and our breaths to accompany us.

  The car jumped at one point with the scraping of the underbelly on what sounded like grass, before there was the crunch and pop of gravel. The vehicle wobbled as though Zander was trying to find the center of it. He did better than I would have, even as he hit the grass a couple more times before he found his place. When we broke through a thick line of trees, tiny pinpoints of light appeared ahead of us, guiding us in. I let out a breath of relief as I flopped back into my seat.

  “You're rusty.” Alexa laughed, sounding as relieved as I felt.

  “Next time you can do it,” Zander responded, the laughter in his voice showing his own relief.

  “We would have ended up in the ditch,” she fired back.

  I felt my own smile on my lips as they bantered, but I said nothing. I was too enraptured by the growing light atop a grassy hill that I could only assume belonged to a home as we rounded a steep corner. Zander flipped on the lights as we exited the trees, continuing forward into the open space, which allowed the wind to beat against the car with more enthusiasm. Unclipping my seat belt, I rested my arms on the backs of their seats and leaned forward to look at the house as we neared.

  It was beautiful and old. I took the time to drink in the classic windows and old stone as we came to a slow stop. It was something I would have assumed would fit in with the English countryside rather than here in the middle of Connecticut, but somehow it worked. There was a barn made from the same kind of stone tucked just behind the house, with doors painted a bright red color that stood out from the rest of the darkness. I was almost disappointed when the headlights died once again and my sight of it all dimmed.

  Getting out of the car, I was almost pushed sideways by the gust of wind that picked up and twisted the elements. My hair cavorted around me in little waves, wrapping itself around my neck. I stumbled from the next squall, my hand landing on the car in an attempt to steady myself as the surrounding trees groaned at the force that pushed against them. It was like something you'd see in a horror movie. The angry howl of the wind undulated toward me, each gust colder and more powerful than the last. The house ahead of me, even made of stone, seemed to creak and groan as the bluster of wind whistled up against it. The sounds of the air moving through the gaps in the roof gave the impression something sinister was waiting in the shadows.

  The three of us stood in front of the house, staring up at it as though it meant something different to each one of us. I guess it did. It was a home because of the building, and a home because of the person inside of it. For me, it was neither familiar, nor a comfort. It was four walls, but the inside of it promised answers to questions I'd been asking all my life.

  The light spilling from the small windows of the house stretched across the gravel, subtly highlighting the fencing of the paddock, and as I looked around, I could see the shapes of the horses as they trotted around in the wind, the sailing of their manes and tails as gust after gust washed up against them. I almost envied them their confidence as I watched them with a smile. There was no fear to be seen, no nervous energy at what the winds would bring. I, however, was standing there feeling the significance of not only the winds
of change, but also the promise of answers – answers that offered hope for a future that could be different. If I believed Zander and Alexa – and I did – my grandmother was inside this house, a woman my mother had long ago told me was dead. It seemed cruel that she'd lied to me. She'd denied me the solace of having this woman in my life, and I didn't know why.

  Zander, fighting the wind, came around to our side of the car, lazily throwing one arm around my shoulder and the other around Alexa's. I wasn't sure if he hadn't noticed my hesitance, or if he'd simply chosen to ignore it. Either way, his ease helped me relax, and I was grateful for the brief reprieve. I couldn't ask for much more than that when I was about to be faced with my past and possibly my future as well.

  “Home sweet home. It never changes, does it?” he asked, leaning his cheek against the side of Alexa’s head.

  “I wouldn't want it to,” Alexa responded simply, pushing her hands into her pockets. “We may have been assigned to other places, but this is the only home I've ever known.”

  “You say that like you're ancient, Lex, I quipped, following her lead and forcing my hands into my flimsy jacket pockets. The wind was becoming brutal, and colder by the second.

  I wasn’t entirely sure I would have noticed the exchange between the two of them if they hadn't fallen silent, but the pregnant pause called to me, and turning my head, I saw them looking at one another, almost bemused at my comment. I didn’t know why. I normally would have asked, but I was just learning which battles to fight, and this clearly wasn't one of them.

  “Should we wait until morning?” Alexa asked, eyeing the house and then me.

  “You honestly think she's sleeping, baby?”

  Alexa laughed and shook her head just as the top half of the stable door leading into the house was pulled open.

  Squinting my eyes, I looked into the light that seemed too bright in this windy darkness and that swallowed everything in its path. Standing there, I blinked as the front paws and heads of two dogs appeared over the top of the bottom half of the door. I wasn't sure what kind of dogs they were. My dad had been too determined to keep me miserable to allow me to even get familiar with the animals or their breeds, but from what little I did know, I would have said the pair were relatives of the wolfhound.

  When the bottom half of the door swung open, both of the huge dogs raced out and approached us where we were standing by the car. I could feel both Zander and Alexa relax as they neared, but Zander's arm tightened around me in warning. Then again, it wasn't like he could have known I loved dogs, or that I wasn't afraid of them.

  The dogs slowed and stopped less than three feet in front of us. Side by side in perfect precision, they sat. It was a thing of beauty to watch, though I imagined they'd always been that attuned to one another. It wasn't until the woman stepped out of the house that I realized that they were waiting for her.

  “What–” Zander made sure nothing else came from my mouth as he shook his head slowly from side to side. He wasn't afraid, but there was still a warning in the action, telling me that he couldn't answer even if I asked. So I watched the dogs, their coats brushing back and forth in the gusts that still pushed up against us like thousands of relentless hands shoving us forward.

  “I was expecting you earlier,” a young woman said, approaching slowly. She stopped between the two dogs, her hands brushing over their heads, signaling that all was safe. It was enough of a command that they stood easily and approached us, their cold wet noses pushing against my hands before they pranced around us.

  “We had some complications and had to take the back roads,” Alexa said, stepping forward to kiss the woman on the cheek. Zander stepped up next, whispering something to make the ethereal woman laugh. He had a proclivity for being jovial, and more to the point, he spread that laughter wherever he went. It was hard not to trust someone like that.

  “What kind of complications?” the woman asked, massaging the ear of one of the dogs that edged closer to her.

  No one answered verbally. Alexa gave her a look I couldn't read, but the woman had no problem in deciphering its meaning. While she was preoccupied with the others, I took a closer look at her, trying my hardest not to stare. She had a slim physique, but not that supermodel kind of skinny where her bones were protruding – hers was more natural, and included curves. Her white blonde hair fell around her in curtains, the ends curling slightly. It framed her beautiful face, which seemed as though it would be more fitting on a Greek statue than a living, breathing woman.

  “Enough about that for now. We'll look into it a little more later.” She turned to me all lightness and grace, her eyes bright and full of mirth. The blue shining back at me was almost familiar, the color something I'd seen before, but couldn't quite place where.

  My attention moved to the two dogs as they shifted closer again, and they relaxed the moment her fingers brushed their ears.

  “This is Edme,” the woman said gently, rubbing the head of the dog on her right, then she turned her attention to the dark dog on her left. “And this is Mina.”

  “God, I’m sorry. Acantha, this is Cassandra. Cassandra, this is Acantha. She's...” Alexa tapered off as though unsure of whether or not to continue. Acantha gave her a humored, though reproachful look before turning back to me, her hands reaching out to take mine in a gesture I thought nothing of returning. Gladly taking her hands, I mirrored her warm smile.

  “Cassandra, what Alexa is so awkwardly trying to say is that I'm your grandmother.”

  I'd have liked to have said that I took the ridiculous and cruel joke with dignity and grace, that I had gathered my wits about me and listened to what she had to say, but I couldn't. Mainly because I didn't believe what she’d said for a second, and rather than listening to what any of them had to say, I pulled my hands from Acantha's as though she'd burned me, and backed away.

  I wasn't sure how I looked at Alexa and Zander, but they both shrank away from me, their eyes on their feet, unable to meet mine. Not having many people skills to fall back on, I immediately took that as a sign of guilt and took two more steps backward, before turning on my heel and walking away into the darkness.

  History Lessons

  “Shit.” Alexa whispered as I stumbled over the gravel in the darkness and took a moment to catch myself. I wasn't sure why she sounded so concerned when she obviously hadn't cared about setting up an elaborate scheme to make a fool out of me, and I was currently too interested in heading down the long, dark drive, with what little dignity I had left, to ask questions.

  My anger was the only companion I needed as the darkness closed in and the wind picked up as it swirled around me. Walking down an unfamiliar path wasn't the best decision I'd ever made, but I was a little confused and a lot pissed off, two conflicting emotions that didn’t exactly leave me thinking rationally. I marched farther into the inky darkness that grew more insidious the closer I got to the trees, where the wind howled through the branches, making the leaves shiver with almost as much violence as I was.

  The anger I had for my traveling companions leeched into my self loathing as I realized how stupid I was being. The drive up to the house had been in all-consuming darkness, and as I headed down the driveway, it seemed as though that darkness was increasing. I had no idea where I was going, but my feet kept propelling me forward, my indignation giving them momentum.

  “Cassie.”

  I ignored the plea to slow down and continued on, wrapping my arms around myself in an attempt to keep warm. I'd never answered to Cassie; in fact, I'd actively ignored it when anyone decided to call me by that epithet, mainly because it was in the file that had been filled out by the one person who knew nothing about me: my father.

  “Cass, stop,” Zander pleaded, the gravel popping under his feet in a way that told me he was jogging to get to me. Before he could get too close, I stopped and spun to face him, almost stumbling when he appeared out of the darkness and slid to a stop in front of me.

  “Why?” I demanded, my arms
tightening around me.

  “Because I asked you to?” he replied, the corners of his lips faintly visible as they turned up at the sides. His amusement did nothing to abate my frustration; in fact, it had the opposite effect – it made my anger fill my chest like a ball of fire.

  “Why did you bring me out here just to humiliate me?” I snapped, the unapologetic emotion making my voice crack.

  “Think about that question, Cass. Think of the motivation.”

  I growled in anger, toeing the gravel in frustration. “I can't. I can't fathom why you'd do it. Why Alexa would do it.”

  “Therein lies your answer, sweetheart. You can't find a motive because there isn't one. That’s my point.”

  I laughed without humor and stepped closer to him, my fists balling and dropping to my sides as I leaned in. A lifetime of being the invisible child and the delusional patient had coagulated all my senses into a ball of mistrust and self-doubt. Someone as self-assured as Zander couldn’t possibly understand how that felt.

  “And you expect me to believe that she–” I pointed in the direction of the farmhouse, “–is my grandmother? You don't think that maybe, just maybe, that defies all logic?”

  “How old do you think I am, Cass?”

  “You really don't want me to answer that. I’m not going to be stroking your ego when you just crushed my dignity, asshole.”

  “Just answer the damn question.”

  I glared at him. I physically focused on glaring at him with such intensity that if I’d had some mystical power, he would have burst into flames.

  “Thirty. Five,” I added, smirking just to be cruel. He didn't look more than maybe late twenties at most. I crossed my arms pointedly and scowled at him again.

  In my attempt to insult Zander, I only seemed to succeed in making him smile brighter at me – a smile I was ready to wipe from his face as he rocked on his heels. If he could have put himself in my shoes for one second, he would have understood how I was feeling. Instead, he seemed determined to keep the blows coming.