by Nina Croft
“That’s nice.”
“Isn’t it? I’m just not sure why I needed watching over.”
“The forest can be a dangerous place?” Bella suggested.
“Do you want to know what else I’m guessing?” She didn’t wait for Bella to answer. “I’m guessing that Mr. Dawson is one of those people who can change into a wolf.” She closed her eyes, pressed her fingers to her lids, trying to make sense of it. “What I don’t understand, and what no one is willing to tell me, is what is any of that to do with me?” She looked away, her eyes pricking.
“Aw, Rachel, I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. But it would cause more problems, and I don’t dare. You need to talk to Finn.”
“He’s not here. And I’m not sure he’d tell me anyway.” She sniffed. “I think I should go home. But I can’t make myself. I keep feeling like there’s something I need to do. But I can’t remember what, and it’s driving me crazy.”
Bella looked away for a moment. Then she got to her feet. She was leaving. But she hesitated. “I can’t interfere,” she said. “It’s not allowed.”
Rachel wanted to scream…not allowed by whom? But Bella was already speaking again. “But I read this article the other day, and I thought you might find it interesting.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a magazine, folded open. She handed it to Rachel. “Read it.”
Then she was walking away. At the door she hesitated and turned back. “Just…don’t leave it too long.”
And she was gone. Rachel stared at the door. Leave what too long?
She glanced down at the magazine in her hand and frowned.
It was open at an article. Regression Hypnosis. Truth or Lies. Who were you in a past life?
She spread the magazine out on the table and started to read the article. She got to the end and started again. One paragraph in particular resonated with her.
Do you have dreams that seem more real than life? Then it may be that you are reliving a former existence.
She read the credits at the bottom of the page. The author was a professor based at a university here in Washington, DC. And suddenly, Rachel knew what she had to do. Bella’s words echoed through her mind: Don’t leave it too long. Time was running out. She jumped to her feet, the need to move pushing her on. She went into Jacob’s bedroom and crouched down beside him, touching him lightly on the shoulder. His eyes blinked open, and he smiled.
“Hey, baby, we need to go out for a little while.”
He looked past her. “Is Finn coming with us?”
“Not this time. But I bet he’ll be here when we get back.”
He scrambled out of bed, and she helped him put his shoes on, then grabbed a jacket, her phone, and the purse of money Bella had given her two days ago. She took Jacob’s hand and left the apartment, half expecting to be stopped, but she saw no one as they exited the building. She’d seen a taxi stand a block down and she headed there. The skin prickled between her shoulder blades, but when she turned around she saw no one. She gave the taxi driver the address of the university and sat back, her arm around Jacob.
What was she doing?
* * *
The taxi dropped her off outside the university’s main entrance. She paid the driver, then took Jacob’s hand and headed inside. At the reception desk, she asked for professor Kauffman’s office. She had an idea that she would need an appointment. But the woman behind the desk just smiled and said, “Take the elevator to the second floor, and it’s the fourth door on your left.”
Hopefully that meant the professor was here.
She located the office with the professor’s name on the door, so she was in the right place. After knocking, she tried the handle. The door was unlocked, and she opened it and walked in. She found herself in an office with another woman seated behind a desk typing into a keyboard and watching a monitor. She glanced up and smiled. “Can I help you?”
There was a chair against the opposite wall and she let go of Jacob’s hand. “Go sit for a minute, darling.”
He nodded and sat, his feet dangling, and she turned her attention back to the woman. “I’d like to see Professor Kauffman, please.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. But it’s important.”
“I can make you an appointment for next week. If you’ll just let me know why you need to see the professor.”
Next week would be too late. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. “Please, I—”
As she spoke, the inner door opened, and a man stepped out. Tall, with a thin, handsome face and dark hair flecked with gray. She recognized him from the photo in the magazine.
She stepped toward him. “Professor Kauffman.”
“Yes?”
“I’m Rachel Miller. I read your article.” She held out the magazine. “I need to talk to you.”
He gave her an absent smile. “I’m afraid I have a meeting right now. But my assistant will sort you out an appointment.”
She stepped in front of him. “Please. It’s important. Really important.” She lowered her voice, not wanting Jacob to hear her words. “Please. I dream of dying. I’ve died so many times, and I know that if I don’t find out why, then soon I will die again, this time for real. And I have a son and…” She gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t want to die.”
He glanced into her face, his gaze holding hers. He must have seen something, because he gave an abrupt nod. “Can you call Peter and tell him I’ve been delayed?” he said to his assistant, then turned back to her. “Your son will be safe with Mary.”
“Can you stay out here with the nice lady for a little while, Jacob?”
He nodded solemnly. He was such a good child.
She followed the professor into a large office with a big window. Bookcases lined the other walls. A big dark-wood desk stood across one corner. He waved Rachel into a seat next to it and sat down in the leather chair across from her.
“Tell me why you think I can help you, Rachel.”
“I’m not sure you can. I’m not even sure I need help.” She shook her head. “That’s wrong. I do need help. I just don’t know why. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but something bad. I can feel it so close.”
“Feel what?”
“Death.” That was the first time she’d admitted her fears to herself.
He studied her for a minute. “You seem healthy enough. Any health issues?”
“Nothing that I know of.”
“Do you have a history of mental health problems?”
“No.”
“Ever been in therapy?”
“Never.”
“Tell me about these dreams. Is it something recent?”
“No. I’ve always dreamed. My mother told me I dreamed in the cradle. But always the details slipped away when I woke.”
“But you remember what the dreams were about.”
“They were about dying. I’ve died so many times.” She clasped her hands together on her lap. “Then the night before last, I dreamed, and I remembered.”
“Do you know why? Has something changed?”
Everything had changed. “I came to the city three days ago; before that I lived in a small community in a very rural area.”
“The reason for your move?”
“My father died recently, and my grandfather asked me to move here with my son. I said no, and he sent men to kidnap us. I got away, but my son was brought here, and I came to get him back.”
“You obviously succeeded. Tell me about the dream.”
She closed her eyes, and she was back in the cold, the water filling her lungs, she was choking… She pushed the memory away and started talking, recounting the dream as she had for Finn. When she finished, he was watching her, tapping a pen on the table in front of him.
“So in the dream you have a son, and he dies. Do you think perhaps the dream is just playing out your recent fears for your son? That you lost him? His death in the dream is merely a symbol for
the fear you felt when he was taken from you?”
Could it be that simple? She wanted to believe it, but she didn’t. “No. I remembered the dream this time, but I know I’ve had it before. It was so familiar. And I’ve always had a terror of water.”
“Good.” Good? She frowned, and he continued, “I suspect the dream is a repressed memory.”
“A memory of what?”
“A past life, of course. That’s why you came here, isn’t it? Because you believed you have lived before.”
Died before. “Someone gave me your article. I think they wanted me to come here. I think they want me to remember but can’t tell me.”
He rose to his feet and gestured for her to get up. She did and followed him across the room to a leather couch.
“I use a method called regression hypnosis,” he said. “You’ll be put into light trance, and I’ll ask you some questions that will hopefully unlock your mind and release your memories of any past lives.”
“Will I remember what happens while I’m hypnotized?”
“You’ll remember everything.”
“You really believe that people can be reborn?”
“Of course. Though not everyone. Most of us only have one life.”
“Why? Why me?”
“No one knows. But perhaps your memories will give you some hint of the reasons.” He waved to the couch, and she sank down and stretched out. Her heart was beating fast and sweat broke out on her forehead. She wanted this to work, she wanted to find the truth, but at the same time she was scared and didn’t want to relive the horror of that death another time.
“Try to relax. Loosen your hands.”
They were balled into fists at her side and she forced her fingers to open, her palms to unclench.
“Close your eyes, Rachel.”
Her lashes fluttered closed. She was breathing fast, and she consciously slowed it down, breathing in and out.
“I’m going to count back from one hundred,” he said. “As soon as you’re under, I’ll start the questions.”
He started counting in a rhythmic voice and she could feel herself drifting off, the room fading from her consciousness.
“Tell me what happened before you died. Tell me why they killed you and your son.”
I don’t know.
But as the words flashed through her mind, she was already back in that former life. Her first life. When she’d fallen in love with an angel.
“My name was Damaris.”
Chapter 22
Damaris stood on the edge of the desert, her arms wrapped around herself as the sun lowered in the sky. She was dressed in a tunic of dark-red linen, sleeveless and reaching almost to her feet.
She was waiting. Finn had asked her to meet him here. He’d told her he had important news. That she and Marcus should be ready to move. That they had to leave this place with his brothers and find a new home.
At the back of her mind the familiar sense of foreboding nagged at her consciousness. She’d always known that loving Finn was dangerous. Wrong. He was an angel, so far above her. He belonged to God. But how could she not love him? He was so pure, and good, and beautiful. He made her feel like a woman, and when he made love to her, she knew she’d found heaven on earth. But at the back of her mind, there was always the thought that everything had to be paid for.
So she’d been afraid. And she’d never spoken the words. Never told him she loved him. She presumed he knew, and he’d never pushed her, though he said the words often. I love you.
She hoped in their new home, she’d be able to leave her fears behind and at last tell him what he meant to her, how much she loved him.
And then he was there, high above her, flying on golden wings. He landed lightly beside her, his wings folding over his back. In his hands, he cradled a goblet, gold inlaid with green stones. He held it out to her.
“What have you brought me?” she asked, taking the goblet from his hands.
“Wine. Flavored with sunshine to warm you for the journey ahead.”
“We’re still leaving?”
He nodded. “Are you ready to go?”
She nodded. “Everything is packed. Marcus is waiting for us. I’ve told him we’re going on an exciting trip.” At the thought of Marcus, a twinge of guilt shot through her. Because she loved Finn more than her own blood. Though Marcus would never know that.
He was so beautiful, with his golden wings and the face of an angel. Gray eyes that looked at her as though she was all he had ever wanted. A look that made her scared. How could he love her that way? He was an angel and she was a mere mortal, and she couldn’t believe his words that he would love her forever. How could he when one day she would grow old and die and leave him behind?
She peered into the goblet. The wine was dark red and reminded her of blood. A shiver ran through her.
“Drink,” he said.
She lifted the goblet to her lips, breathing in the sweet, heavy scent. At the last moment, she looked into his face, caught something in his eyes. Expectation or guilt— maybe a mixture of both. But she was eager to be on her way. Leave this life behind. There would be time for questions later.
She took a sip; the wine was rich, with a strange but compelling flavor and a slightly bitter aftertaste. She drained the rest and felt the warmth wash through her system, run along her nerves and her veins, filling her with light and life.
She stood unmoving, savoring the feeling. Finn took the cup from her and dropped it to the ground, lowered his head and kissed her.
“I love you,” he murmured, his expression expectant. “I’ll love you for eternity.”
She wanted to respond, but as always something held her back. As though if she didn’t speak the words, perhaps she could keep him. As soon as they were out, then somehow, she would lose him. It was a crazy thought, but it kept the words locked inside her.
He gave her a last long look, then magic shivered through the air, his wings vanished, and he stood before her in human form. “We need to leave. The others will be waiting.”
They made their way back to the village, through the narrow streets to the small house they shared. Marcus was sitting on her leather satchel packed with their clothes and the bits of jewelry Finn had given her in the year they had been together. He jumped up and ran to her, and she hugged him hard. “Are we going on an adventure?” he asked.
“We are,” Finn replied. He bent down, picked up the satchel and flung it over his shoulder, then held out his arms, and Marcus went to him. He’d grown to love Finn as well. He’d been terrified of his own father, with good reason, and had been wary of Finn at first.
Finn picked him up, and together they left their home. The streets were quiet, and they saw no one. She could still feel the wine running through her system.
They were almost there—up ahead, Finn’s brothers and their wives had gathered. Torr, their leader, was married to her half-sister, Soraya. It was through Soraya that she had met Finn when she’d returned to the village after the death of her husband. She hadn’t wanted another man. One had been enough. But she hadn’t been able to resist Finn. On their third meeting, he’d revealed what he was and asked her to marry him, but by that time she was already in love. Though scared to admit it.
A clap of thunder sounded overhead. The sky opened, and a host of angels appeared, blocking out the sun. The beating of a thousand wings filled the air. In seconds, they were surrounded.
“What’s happening?” she asked. Were they friends?
He turned to her, his face stamped with horror. He placed Marcus on the ground and her son ran to her, burying his face against her skirt.
“I never meant for this to happen,” Finn said.
What? What was happening?
Someone grabbed her from behind. She’d been staring into the air and hadn’t noticed the villagers coming up behind them. She looked into their familiar faces and saw strangers, hatred stamped on their features.
She heard Soraya scream as s
he too was dragged from her husband’s arms.
Finn reached for her, his wings bursting free of his human form. But angels grasped him, pulling him back and away from her. He threw back his head and roared, but there were too many.
“Finn,” she screamed his name as they dragged her away. She lost sight of him as she fought against the hard hands holding her. They’d separated her from Marcus, and she searched for him. Smoke filled the air, and a long, drawn-out scream of pain cut across the roar of wings.
They were intent on punishing her for a crime she had no knowledge of. Maybe just for stealing what belonged to God.
She took a long time to die, clutching Marcus’s still-warm body to her. And all she could think was she hadn’t told Finn she loved him. Now she would never get the chance.
That was the first death. She’d been reborn and died so many times since then, and those lives flashed before her now. And the deaths. Never truly happy, haunted by that first death. Haunted by a love she hadn’t remembered and a guilt that she’d never told Finn she loved him. Always searching for something, or rather, someone.
* * *
She sat up, sobbing, her hands covering her face. For a minute, she had no clue where she was. Who she was. And panic threatened to overwhelm her. Then she remembered. The professor. She was in his office. And she opened her eyes, found him sitting on a chair beside the couch, watching her, a frown on his face. “You’re back with us,” he said. “I was worried. For a minute I couldn’t wake you. I thought I’d lost you to the memories.”
She swallowed and shook herself. “I remember.”
“I know. You spoke. So many lives. I’ve never had a subject remember more than one past life before.”
“You believe me?” She had no doubts. But still so many questions.
“You were very convincing. You believed yourself in love with an angel.” He shook his head. “I never believed in God before. Could you have been mistaken?”
She closed her eyes, saw an image of Finn, golden wings spread. “No. He was real. I still don’t know why, though. Why they…killed me. There was such hatred.” Was it all because she’d fallen in love with an angel? Had she died because of that? But she sensed there was more to it. Why had the angels attacked them? What had Finn and the others done to earn the wrath of Heaven?