The Diamond Bearer's Secret
Page 23
I feel phenomenal! Awareness races through my body at lightning-fast speed, identifying every injured capillary and vein in my body, not just in my shoulder, but everywhere. My acute sense of healing focuses on every cell within me, repairing, rebuilding, and sloughing off at an incredible rate. Then my focus turns to Chris. I race through his body composition in my mind, doing the exact same thing. Once there is nothing left to fix, I let go of his hand.
“What the . . . Calli?” Chris exclaims. He points to my shoulder. “Not only are you healed, the blood is gone. It’s as if it was never there.”
I sit up, bringing our bodies close together. “I think we just accessed the healing power as two Bearers in love,” I whisper, placing my hand on his cheek. My eyes drop to his mouth. After having performed an extensive search through his body, healing any and all of his ailments, I need to feel his mouth on mine to complete the connection. I pull his head forward and bring my lips to his. He must feel the same urgency because he wraps his arms around me and pushes his hand into my hair, holding my head. His other hand finds its way to my cheek as he intensifies the kiss. His hand slides down my neck and out over my bare, freshly-healed shoulder, then around to my back. Everywhere he touches vibrates intensely. It’s the most wonderful feeling. I wrap my other arm around him too, feeling I need to be as close to him as possible.
I explore his firm chest and back and slide my hands along his shoulders as he explores my mouth. I move my hands down his sides and grab onto his shirt hem and begin to push upward. His arms shoot up and he reaches back and grabs his shirt from the neckline, pulling it off in one swift movement. Our lips part for only a microsecond while the material slides between us. Before I know what’s happened, he’s kicked off his shoes and is laying me back on the bed, his body length stretched out beside me. I roll toward him and arch my back so our chests and tummies can touch. Wrapping my arm over his body, I pull him closer because I want to kiss him again. But as I move to his mouth, he pulls away and props himself up on one elbow and smiles.
I remove my arm from his body and lay it on my side. I try to read his mind. He’s blocking me. I look into his eyes and watch as they travel down my body and come back up stopping at my chest. I’m able to read his thoughts now. He wants to touch me, but he’s afraid of over-stepping his bounds. Instead, he takes his hand and slowly traces around my hairline. He tucks my bangs behind my ear while his feet stroke mine. Then he drags his hand lazily down my arm to my hand and intertwines our fingers.
“Your skin is so soft, Calli.” He pulls our clasped hands to his mouth and slides the back of my hand over his lips. “Are you feeling better?”
“Mmm-hmm.” I untangle my fingers from his and lay my hand on his chest over his heart. I feel his heart racing beneath my palm. The urge to feel his muscles overwhelms me and I begin touching his chest.
He lets out a heavy breath and lies on his back. “Your hands on my body feel so good. You have no idea.” He closes his eyes and inhales deeply.
“I think I have a clue.” I remember the day on the bank of the river when I massaged the water from his lungs and how muscular his body felt. Now, with his shirt off, I can identify each of his major and minor muscle groups. “Runners’ bodies are truly amazing,” I say in admiration as I follow the lines and planes of his torso. When I reach his sculpted abs, he snatches my hand from his belly and holds it protectively.
“We better let them know you’re all right,” he says.
I let out a long sigh. “I don’t want this moment to end, but you’re right.”
“I don’t either, Calli.”
“I’m so glad you’re here with me on New Year’s Eve. I know you came because Max was headed this way, but now we’ll be able to welcome in the new year together. I think this next year is going to hold some amazing things for us.”
“Why do you say that?” He angles his head.
“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. But I want to go find out. I want Maetha and Crimson to level with us. Then later, you and I can pick up where we left off,” I hint, moving my body closer so I can kiss him. Before our lips touch, he rolls toward me and then halfway onto my body, causing me to lie back.
His mouth descends to mine and he kisses me sweetly. “I love you,” he says. Then he gets up from the bed and pulls his shirt back on.
“I love you, too, Chris.” I lay there peacefully. Letting the memory of our time together imprint on my mind, still feeling his body against mine.
He searches through my bag for a different shirt for me. “You still have my jacket?”
I look over and find him holding the jacket he gave me at Lake Patoka. “Yeah. It smells like you, well, before you lost your scent.” I feel kind of silly for some reason.
“Well, how about you wear it then?” He tosses the jacket to me and I put it on and zip it up.
I close my eyes and inhale the dwindling aroma of Chris. When I open my eyes, he’s moved next to me. His mind says, It’s as though I’m still wrapped around you.
We walk out of the bedroom and stop as we enter the living room.
Maetha and Crimson have wrapped Marketa’s body in sheets and a dark blanket to mask the blood. Even though it’s dark outside, I can understand a blood-soaked, white-sheet-wrapped body would not look good to anyone passing by . . . like Agent Whitman.
The memory of Marketa’s body blowing open flashes through my mind. Then General Harding’s gruesome death follows. Neema’s was difficult to witness, as I considered her a friend. Thinking about her death brings back sharp feelings of betrayal, which I quickly dismiss. Justin Macintyre’s death was violent, but I knew it was coming. Freedom’s death was by far the most drawn-out and dramatic. I watched him die several times during Brand’s attempts to get the bullet to hit Freedom’s heart.
Then there’s Chris’s death.
I’ve watched him die over and over again in alternate futures. Someday, I’ll be responsible for ending his mortal life and bringing him back to life.
Seeing Marketa’s wrapped body brings thoughts and images to mind that I’d rather not see. Several other deaths replay in my mind. The poisoned Runners, Hunters being shot, the heart-attack guy . . . am I already becoming cold-hearted and numb like Marketa? Why am I not disturbed more by these deaths? Why am I not upset Marketa died a few hours ago? She’s been by my side for nearly four months.
The dark blanket’s edge is crooked and disheveled on Marketa’s wrapped body. I leave Chris’s side and walk over to her. I reach down and straighten the blanket’s hem so that it lines up directly centered down her body, tucking parts of it underneath her body. I stand and look over her body. I think she’d be pleased.
“Why did you do that?” Chris asks, bringing Crimson’s and Maetha’s attention to us.
“She liked things in order.”
“Yeah, but she just tried to kill you.”
I look at Chris, not knowing how to explain that I feel sad for her. She chose to go against nature’s will. She didn’t need to die, but in the end that was her choice.
“How are you feeling?” Maetha asks.
I step away from Marketa and stand by Chris. “I’m all better.” I open the zipper on the jacket enough to expose my shoulder. Both Maetha and Crimson move closer to inspect my skin.
“Unbelievable!” Crimson stammers.
“I knew it!” Maetha affirms. “You healed yourself, didn’t you?”
“No, we did it together,” I tell her, wrapping an arm around Chris’s back. “Why would you think I’d be able to heal myself when neither of you could do it?”
“We’re going to discuss that after the Healers get here,” Crimson announces. “Sit down.” She motions to the couch.
Maetha returns to scrubbing the table, cleaning up my blood.
“Let me help clean up,” I offer. “That’s my mess.”
“Nonsense. You need to save your energy. Sit and I’ll get you a cup of tea.”
“But I feel fine.”
Chris and I follow her orders and sit together silently on the couch, his arm around my shoulders holding me protectively, his thumb gently massaging my arm.
I speak to his mind. Do you want to see what happened when we met with Max?
Yes. Yes, I do.
Okay, focus on the memory I’m putting forward.
Chris accesses the memory with ease. I pay attention to what I’m feeling while he does. I can basically see what he sees and it makes me wonder if this is a form of thought-extraction. The difference is, he’s not forcefully removing memories, so he won’t be exhausted when he’s done. The same way I wasn’t exhausted when I viewed his memory of meeting with Max.
Once Chris gets to the part of the memory where Max shoots me, he becomes quite enraged. Then he relives what I went through at the hands of Marketa, and becomes livid. Once he finishes, his says, She tortured you, Calli. Why did Crimson allow her to do that? Why did Crimson think you’d be fine with obsidian in your future?
I don’t know.
Crimson brings me some chamomile tea. I cradle the mug with my hands, inhaling the soothing steam. Crimson sits in a chair across from us and activates her invisibility. I can still see her silently observing us. I wonder what she’s thinking.
The two Healers arrive and Maetha issues instructions. I don’t pay attention, though. My mind is occupied with memories of Marketa. I’d put my trust in her and she never gave me a reason to doubt her.
She knew, however, the Blue Diamond afforded the Bearer the ability to hear other Bearers’ thoughts. That would be why I never suspected her as one of the four dissidents . . . which in turn means I’ve tagged someone else as being a dissident who isn’t. But who? Yeok Choo, Jie Wen, Kookju, or Chuang . . . or perhaps someone else entirely.
Not that I didn’t understand the importance before, but now I fully understand why Crimson wanted me to keep the Blue shard secret and why I will continue to do so. Marketa thought she was safe. She thought she’d get away with my death. She thought wrong. She made a bad choice.
I notice I never received the strumming sensation that a diamond no longer had an owner after Marketa died. The exposed obsidian on her belt prevented that from happening. This would mean that no other Bearer, other than the four of us, is aware Marketa is dead.
Chapter 16 – The Altered Unaltered
Maetha sees the Healers off and comes back inside.
Crimson reappears, stands, and walks around our group, securing our conversation while Maetha makes a cup of tea.
I speak first. “May I ask a question that’s weighing heavily on my mind?”
“Go ahead.” Crimson nods.
“Will I ever become like Marketa? Will I have crossed the line so many times that I’ll become insensitive and uncompassionate?”
“The fact that you’re worrying means you will continue to evaluate each situation as it presents itself. The line Marketa spoke of was drawn by humans. Every human has a different idea of what constitutes crossing the line.”
I correct her. “Actually, the courts have the last say in who is crossing the line.”
“Not really. The lines are drawn in sand. They can be fudged this way or that to allow for different variables. Consider the laws governing this country. They are not identical to the laws governing other countries. All laws are made by man in each corresponding area of the world. Those in charge or in control have the power to alter a law—or move the line—to accommodate a situation. It has always been that way. It will always be that way.
“Way back before I found the Primal Stone, I belonged to a wandering tribe that lived in the area you know as the Middle East, specifically Iraq. We would follow the herds, follow the sun, move away from the advancing cold, and make trades with other tribes. Everything we owned, we carried with us from place to place. My tribe was my family, and my family had order and structure. Two rules had to be followed: don’t hurt others, and don’t take their things. If a rule was broken, you’d be banished from the tribe. If you killed someone, you’d be killed. This way of life was simplicity at its best and we had a happy tribe. Then a stranger walked into our camp. He was a Healer, like me. Assur, he said was his name. He was welcomed and embraced. But soon after his arrival, mysterious deaths began to occur. I suspected him but couldn’t convince the others. I followed Assur, prayed to my gods for enlightenment, waited to catch him in the act of harming someone, but I never did.
“Soon after, I heard something calling to me. I followed the hum, coming from inside a cave. A brilliant red stone sparkled in the dark, amidst the bones of skeletons. I picked the stone up and when I did, power upon power raced through me, scaring me to death. I tried to drop the stone but it was stuck to my skin. I shook my hand but it wouldn’t release. So, I rubbed the stone against my chest to try to pry it off. You can guess what happened next. I woke much later, after dark. I had no fire and became afraid I’d get lost trying to get back to my tribe. However, I realized my sight was different, better. I could see at night. I looked down at my hand, remembering the red stone. It was gone. Then I noticed my dress was torn and bloody. I knew the stone was inside my body; I could feel it but couldn’t get it out. Panic made me run back to the others, to my love, Kirkuk.
“Kirkuk thought I’d been attacked. He took me to Assur even though I said I was fine. As soon as I saw Assur, I read his mind and found he was going to kill me to secure his place with the tribe. Kirkuk wouldn’t listen to me, didn’t believe I could hear Assur’s thoughts. I’m sure I looked crazed out of my mind to Kirkuk. Assur tried to take me away to heal me when I somehow harnessed lightning and shot a bolt out of my fingertip, killing him.
“I’d broken the rule. I’d killed. Even though it was self-defense, I’d crossed the line. Kirkuk led the pack to drive me off a cliff. I could have stopped them, but they were only doing what had kept the tribe safe for generations . . . and, I was heartbroken. That was the point in time where I became determined to stop any Healer who set out to harm others. To protect those who were being killed off unnaturally.
“As with all my Bearers, with the exception of Chris and Jonas, I chose you, Calli. I chose you because of, among other things, your compassion, your mind, your ability to look at a situation and make an immediate decision in nature’s best interest. You thrive on learning, on figuring out solutions. The older Bearers do not think like you. They simply cannot. They can still serve nature, if they choose, but they will never be able to perform at your level.”
Maetha nods her head. “It’s true, Calli.”
Crimson continues. “You’ve grown up in a generation that preserves life. Wars are not as deadly as they used to be due to new technology. Medicine keeps people alive longer. The older Bearers come from a time when death was common and came at a young age. Killing was necessary for survival. Wars were fought to acquire land and to assimilate cultures. My Bearers had to be willing to meet violence with violence.
“In today’s time, the world is more civilized, for the most part, and the Bearers are not used to this type of peace. Obviously, some of the others worry that you, Chris, and Jonas won’t have the guts to do what is necessary—kill. But I say the future belongs to your generation. Your generation will decide what kind of future they want to live in. Will you cross the line as Marketa stated? I hope so, but only in the proper way, as you already have.” Crimson finishes and sips on her tea.
Maetha says, “You are wondering about some of the cryptic words we’ve spoken lately.” She motions toward Crimson. “We’ve been working on a project for several centuries. Once the Death Clan formed, I began experimenting with my Unaltered line, making them stronger, so that one day an Unaltered could successfully pose as a Runner. Unaltered humans are not able to have the running power passed along to them by holding hands. Yet, according to the vision I’d seen, the only way a diamond would be accepted by the Death Clan would be from the Runners, who, unfort
unately, cannot touch a diamond. An Unaltered needed to be placed with the Runners. Your mother’s DNA alteration wasn’t strong enough to pass. That’s why she wasn’t chosen.”
I interrupt, “So, I’m not an Unaltered?”
“Technically, you are an Unaltered in the true sense of the word. However, I altered your DNA. When your eardrums burst in middle school, Crimson was able to evaluate your body thoroughly and conclude you would be strong enough for the task, both in body and mind. She saw the grim outlook for the future of mankind change once she inserted you into the equation. It was decided. We began moving forward with the plan. However, never before had a slightly-altered individual become a Diamond Bearer. We knew your body wouldn’t reject the diamond, we just didn’t know the diamond shard would move around as much as it did.” Maetha turns to Chris. “Calli’s attraction to you and your effect on her amplified the problem. I wouldn’t have sent you two off with obsidian had I known she could die.”
I shake my head and raise a hand. “Wait, hold up. Crimson, you said I was chosen because of my personality and characteristics. Now Maetha is saying I was pre-planned to be strong. What if I had turned out to be a spoiled child with strong DNA? What was your backup plan for the cosmic blast arriving in two years?”
They look at each other, then Crimson speaks, “I would not have chosen you if your personality wasn’t in line with nature, regardless of if your DNA alteration was effective. We thought we’d failed when your mother’s alteration didn’t prove to be strong enough. The future concerning the blast was still ominous. Then there was you. I’ve never considered giving a diamond to a teen. But once I looked into the future with you in the equation, everything began to look optimistic.”