Getagin said nothing.
I continued. “I didn’t ask for it. I wasn’t seeking it. I didn’t know what it was…don’t know what it is now. You said I’m not your prisoner.”
“You aren’t. You can leave whenever you like. Have you so many friends you would leave your newest ones at a time when the land is not known to you, and those who are after you search with such viciousness? Do you have money…supplies…food…a plan? Do you know where you are or where you are going? Please let us help you complete the escape you have worked so hard to win. It is our wish to deliver you safe and far away from danger.”
Now I felt foolish and such the little girl. “What does Master Del Rio want with me?”
“You must be important to him if he would spend this time and effort to find you.” Getagin replied. “Believe me, he would be here if he could.”
“Where is he? What does he want?”
“I do not keep track of his purposes but I know this; He wants you to survive, of course. And, he’d like to see you.”
Back in the unused room in the castle, with not a window to allow sunlight, Veria sighed. “I am sorry. I have let the wheels of my life turn and run on instead of having a conversation.”
“I have often wondered about your life, Veria,” Charlotte said, “I have been listening to your tale and drinking it in. Veria, your life…well, what you’re telling me, is sad.”
Veria stared into the candlelight between them. No sounds came from Lucido who was hidden from the meager candle radiance further back in the room. Perhaps he was asleep, perhaps not. Somewhere in the flicker, Veria saw her past and it danced before her, shimmering in the currents. She reached and played with the flame with her fingers, sitting before it, yet a thousand miles away.
“Your story is also sad, little sister. The emptiness that follows sadness is a dull blade twisting into the heart. Often we wander into the shadows seeking our reasons yet even if we find them it is never enough. Tragedy needs no help and should not be accompanied by self-destruction. The way back is very hard. You are going to want to give up. Don’t!”
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In the kitchen of the Great House, Michael sat back in his chair and appraised Ruby who was showing signs of restlessness. He felt Cinnamon’s attention drawn to him and then watched out of the corner of his eye as she turned to Ruby.
“They are coming back from the beach. Millie has stayed behind for the moment. She remains in the water, continuing to gather remnants of Misty and keeping an eye on the sleeping bodies of John and Persephone.” Michael said.
“What do you mean? Do they need help?”
“Not any more. We need to watch the house and…there is the matter of our new guest. Once they have returned we will go back down to relieve Millie.”
“Ruby, are you hungry? Do you need anything?” Cinnamon asked.
“If…if… if…. I want Max. Max and Ruby…Ruby and Max. He looking but losted. Ruby go finding.”
“Max is gone, Ruby. He is dead. I am sorry.” Cinnamon tentatively reminded her in a gentle tone.
Ruby stood up and went to the door reaching for the nob. Cinnamon moved toward the door to keep her from leaving. Ruby’s face contorted and she bared her teeth as she let out a growl which made Cinnamon cautiously stop in her tracks. Michael was beside Cinnamon in an instant and then stepped between them, placing his hand to the door to stop it from being opened.
Ruby growled and gnashed her teeth, lunging at him but coming up empty. Ruby’s wonder at this was brief because her head was locked in Michael’s powerful arms.
“Don’t struggle, Ruby. I don’t want to hurt you but I will if you don’t behave. This is not an idle threat. Relax.”
He turned Ruby loose, and she backed to the spot she had been when she had been on the floor grieving.
“Don’t!” Ruby barked. “Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t.”
Seemingly embarrassed with her outburst, she put a hand to her mouth and started to cry, burying her face into her hands. Leaning backward until she hit the wall and then slid down to the floor, going from whimpers to a low mournful howl.
19
They had carried Misty from far down the beach. Two waterproof, plastic buckets were brought along as well. It had been a taxing transport. Enos was more than glad to take on responsibility for watching Ruby rather than bringing Misty up a flight of stairs to her suite. Michael had little trouble with this, transporting Misty and the buckets in one trip. Sanford followed. Cinnamon greatly wanted to help upstairs but knew the situation with Ruby was delicate. Enos knew very little about this new development. Ruby stayed crumpled on the floor even though she was offered something less confining and more comfortable. Her temperament remained docile since the showdown at the door. She offered no threat of escape or attack. Eventually though, Cinnamon could contain herself no longer and spoke gently, coaxing Ruby to accept a darkened room where she could have more privacy. Enos, Constance and Cinnamon were on edge as they moved Ruby to this new location, but it went without incident. Cinnamon apologized for the move and promised to be back as soon as she could. Finally, she closed the door and left, though she felt like a jailor. It didn’t help matters that Enos and Constance were located just outside the door.
Cinnamon went up the stairs to the suite used by John, Persephone and Misty. Her last time in this room had been terrifying but there was now no man sitting silently in the shadows, no whispering in the dark. The door to rooms further back revealed a hall, which she’d seen before but never gone further into than the first room on the right. This was where they were gathered now; in John’s room where he had been in a comatose state during a time when Haven and Vampire had wrestled and danced within the confines of a solitary body. Cinnamon had negotiated a separation and divorce between the two.
Misty was placed on to John’s former bed in John’s former room. She appeared lifeless but Cinnamon had heard tales of what Havens could do with just a spark of life, and hoped with a child-like hope that those stories held more than a spark of truth. Sanford was collapsed in a chair in a corner looking as if he was asleep. Cinnamon sidled up to Michael who stood before the bed.
“They are all at work, finding bricks of life lying about and using them to build walls and bridges, floors and roofs. Can they make a house a home, a labor of love a labor of life?” He shrugged.
“They are inside her…? Really?” Cinnamon asked what she already knew.
“Like whispers in a cave.” Michael said. “Mildred is still in the shallow water at the shore where we found the scene of the attack, calling for bits of Misty to come to her like a shepherd calls to the flock. She is the beacon in the dark night. Just as Sanford’s body is at rest without an occupant, the forms of Persephone and John are lying on the beach undefended along with Millie’s as she searches. We need to go there and keep watch. They have enough to do without worrying about body thieves.”
Cinnamon wondered about leaving Sanford’s body lying prone in the chair, alone and unsupervised, but admitted to herself that he was at least within the house. Michael did not appear to be concerned.
“I’m going to go there ahead of you. Join me as soon as you can. Keep close to where the water laps the sand as you travel the beach. Stay as far from the trees as you can. You’ll be fine alone, until you find me.” Michael stepped from the bedroom and was gone before Cinnamon could formulate further questions.
Now she realized that she was again alone, or, she corrected herself, the only moving body in the strange living quarters of the Skye’s. This thought came to her because once before, when she had been here by herself, whispers had come from down the hall. Now she stepped into the narrow corridor. There were no creaking boards or whispers, but Cinnamon had been in the outer room before and now was beyond the door she had tried to keep closed during that unnerving experience. There were four doors on each side of the hall and one at the end. In that room something moved, because there was light from inside, revea
led at the door’s bottom. And two dark areas the size of someone’s feet were making shadows in that light, as if someone was pressed to the door. She wrestled briefly with herself, whether to rush the door and throw it open to confront the hidden presence, or to turn and run out into the greater room and from there out the door. That was the course she decided, telling herself it was not fear that drove her speed but the need to rejoin Michael Ro`dan down the beach as soon as possible. As Cinnamon crossed that large room she forced herself not to look for anyone sitting in the shadows, though her peripheral vision seemed to reveal the form of someone standing at the door to the second story veranda. For all she knew, it could have been Michael but she felt in her heart this was not the case. There was a brief stop in her room to grab a flashlight and a jacket, but to stay there longer was to give more power to the thought that whatever lay in the suite she had just come from could easily make a short journey to her room.
Then she stopped by to where Constance and Enos were minding the closed door keeping the disturbing Ruby at bay.
“Michael and I need to join Millie on the shore. I know so much of this is strange and difficult to understand.”
“Relax about that.” Enos reminded. “I’ve been dealing with strange for a lot of years, even researched it. We’re good here.”
Constance nodded her wide-eyed agreement.
“Please, don’t go upstairs. They’re still working on Misty. It’s a delicate balance. They need to know you’ve got their backs down here.” Cinnamon stood silent trying to think of more to say. The expressions on Enos and Constance seemed to indicate they understood but didn’t understand. Following the example Michael had just given her, she turned and went briskly out the front door into the night.
The trip from the Great House to the beach in the dark was a meal of several ingredients. The dark surroundings were murky and frightening and the seasoning from the tragic last few hours didn’t lend to a sense of security. Instead it lent to a sense of urgency and that spurred Cinnamon-on along the path alone without her flashlight, on through the overhanging forest trees lining her way. When her world opened up and the beach lay before her, the massive lake stood dark and foreboding. Cinnamon shuddered. This nervousness was offset by Michael’s assurance that she would be fine on her journey from the house to the site of the attack. This promise wasn’t so trusted that she foolishly danced in the sand, but still it served to sooth her fears and calm her imaginings. She walked along the shore with the water lapping just short of her feet. The sand before her was a light ribbon between the dark waters on one side and the murky forest on the other. Her upbringing and safety lessons raged against the action of walking alone in the night far from others, but she was so deep into her commitment it was now better to keep going than it was to turn from her goal. Besides the feeling that death lay in wait in the shadows was the pull of her resolve to complete her task. Often she noticed the solitary tread of a wheel where the waves had not yet erased the trail as her journey marched to the rhythm of a roller coaster heartbeat.
Ahead of her, slowly distilling from the night, came the silhouettes of a wheelbarrow and the form of someone standing at the water’s edge. A body lay motionless in the water; three others were prone in the sand. They all appeared to be dead. One of the four actually was….
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Inside Misty, three Havens worked to rekindle life inside her cold lifeless shell. In their ancient past, an instance of life being snatched from death had successfully occurred though it had been against the teachings and traditions of this Haven race. Because of this action, the Captain of a ship called the Genesis had become reanimated. It was the work of one Haven, Sun Dog who had looked for and found cells living in the recently deceased Captain Gibson. If one Haven had accomplished this, perhaps three or four Havens, working in tandem stood an even better chance of getting Misty’s body functioning again. Death was rarely instantaneous. Even when the heart stopped or eyes closed or brains shut down, cells kept working until they slowly faded. Havens know life as few do. They love life as few do. When they choose a companion as a vehicle, as a partner to reside within, they can enter and set up home without the host’s awareness. This is not a unique event. Other forms of life can behave in similar manner, disease and Lorn among them. Havens were creatures designed to view life through their partner’s experiences, monitoring thoughts, experiencing pain and fear, delighting in victories, achievement and bliss. The variety of life they had paired with and understood in manner and biological structure was immense. This knowledge was brought to bear towards the reanimation of Misty Skye.
Cells, still alive, carried within them roadmaps and information for replication and infusion. It was the way of a Haven to find a desirable resident and clean things up inside once they moved in to their new place, they could fix faulty connections, repair dysfunctional joints and mechanisms and sweep-out annoying pains and diseases. The host is never aware of their new companion, except perhaps as an improved, robust life is experienced. The Havens at work in this instance were attempting to build a new structure from the previous one which had been ravaged as one might rebuild from old bricks and mortar, previously use iron girders or wooden beams, using the blueprints provided through DNA. If enough living tissue contained the energy and spark then a palpable reanimation was possible. Body memory, muscle memory-it was all employed to turn the balance from the dark and cold to the warm light.
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The body of Millie shuddered awake at the shoreline. As with someone rising from a night’s sleep, she yawned and stretched and slowly moved about as wakefulness washed over her.
“I can find no more of my darling girl. She has been collected or the rest of her has stretched out to new worlds and new lives beyond reach. I carry what is left of her to add to the pieces we already have. Nothing more has turned up in the last half hour.”
There was an ache in her voice and she sounded very tired. Cinnamon listened through the ears of a woman first, but one whose ears had been finely tuned by training and experience as a psychotherapist.
“I need to get back to the Great House.”
“We’ll bring the rest, go.” Michael replied.
Millie was off but moving as if she were drunk, until she was swallowed by the night.
“Is she alright? She was acting strangely.”
“Hold the barrow steady while I load these three.” Michael replied. “We’re going the same direction. We’ll pick her up along the way if we need to.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing surprising, she’s overwhelmed, worried and tired.”
Michael placed the lifeless body of Morgan first into the hold and followed with John and Persephone who lay side by side on top. Then he lifted the handles and they rolled down the wet sand just out of the water’s reach.
“They’re in a coma, right?” Cinnamon asked as she trudged along.
“More or less.”
“And the one on the bottom? Is she alive?
“Not on my watch, unless it’s to help Misty. Morgan has departed. She lost her right to have this body. If Misty can’t survive in her own form, maybe she could use this one.”
Cinnamon was quiet for a few minutes as they moved along, contemplating what Michael said and didn’t say.
“Cinnamon, Misty is very special, not like any other in the world. I know you have heard the others saying she is special, but you probably thought they meant she was special to them, and she is. I will tell you what they don’t say but want you to know.
On Homa, the place where the Havens come from, the journey from simple life to complex went from existence as vapor, drifting with the breezes to sharing lives with companions who knew not of the Havens’ existence inside them. They could only evolve as far as the top life form in their world. Once Havens managed to leave their world as hitchhikers inside their companions, they began to grow again through finding more complex life to join. They happened onto the Lorn b
y accident but once they did, Havens understood that sitting secretly by, inside a companion was not going to work.
After the crash of the Gemini, many of the surviving Havens desired to have deeper control of their lives, but it wasn’t their way to take over control of a companion’s body as the Lorn do. The reanimation of Captain Gibson was another step in the Haven’s drive for self-reliance, the desire to occupy a body that was their own, free and clear of other entities.”
“But I thought Havens loved merging with others.” Cinnamon said.
“Most do. And that’s a very key word here; ‘most’. Not all Havens yearned for more complexity. Some wanted nothing more than to exist in their vapor form dwelling near the lowland waters, and others were happy merging with trees and rabbits and deer. But those who wished for the ability choose their movements beyond the whim of the breezes. They chose interesting lives to follow and then beyond observing, they improved the health of their…vehicles. Once they found that to a certain degree they could reanimate what had been considered dead, some thought more and more about constructing bodies they didn’t need to share, ones they could pilot themselves. Travels into that area have been short-lived. It was too lonely. Havens, it would seem, were happiest sharing the lives of others.”
Michael paused for a moment and set the wheelbarrow down releasing the handles. He straightened and stared out over the vast freshwater sea.
“Millie is fine. She is nearing the path to the commons.” He turned toward Cinnamon. “But now we come to the crux of the matter. Misty is special for many reasons, but the one meant in this instance is that she was created through pregnancy, not through finding a human companion for her to live with. She is not used to being what her name signifies, mist. To disappear into the water of the lake for escape is not something she has ever successfully done, and believe me, she has tried. Whether she can regroup into herself…well, no one knows.”
The Blood In Between (The Safe Haven Trilogy Book 3) Page 10