Poseidia

by J. L. Imhoff

  “Lily?” I whispered, not wanting to wake her if she slept.

  She opened one eye, “Yes? I’m only meditating. Do you feel better?”

  “I do. How long was I out?”

  “Only about thirty minutes—not long. It’s good to reset your system. If you feel well enough, we’ll head to the ceremonial room.” Lily stood and placed her hand in mine.

  “I guess we should get it over with.”

  “Where we’re going is all the way across the city. We’ll have to take a portal to get there or you’ll collapse from exhaustion before we make it.” Lily led me to a doorway in the same room as the healing tanks. She touched a portal key on her ear the way Roman had and the same black swirling tar appeared.

  We stepped through, and out into a small gazebo-type structure, which housed five similar doorways.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “A central portal location for this side of the city. There is a similar structure behind the Training Center, for residents coming from this side.” She led me toward the temple, where the ceremony would take place.

  It resembled something out of a Greek myth. Huge white pillars held up a slanted roof made of a sparkling white marble. Steps made of the same marble led to decorated doorways, spanning the entirety of the front wall. Statues of people unknown to me stood on each step leading up to the doorway. They resembled the figures in the garden—I felt as if I should know who they were and I wanted to run my fingers over every detail.

  We stood at the base of the steps looking up. I tugged on Lily’s hand to stop as the buzz of people had grown in intensity with every step closer.

  “Wow, that’s a bit overwhelming.” I paused, allowing the bustle to quiet, before taking the first step up. On each step, I had to stop and wait for the humming to integrate into my new physiology before moving on. “I don’t know how I’ll ever get used to this.”

  “You will. Then you’ll forget how you felt before.”

  “Will the other levels of integration be the same?”

  “Perhaps. Your senses will be heightened. Roman gained a unique set of gifts at each level he was able to integrate.”

  The pulsing of drums and chanting grew louder as we moved towards the door. Lily moved ahead of me and pushed open the heavy doors. Inside, the noises grew in intensity as we slowly walked into the foyer. In the center of the temple was a circular room with double doors—I knew inside this room would be the ceremony. Two women dressed in long, sheer white gowns stood outside.

  “Who are they?” I whispered.

  “Two of our priestesses.”

  As we approached, they turned in unison to a table behind them and held out two tall opalescent mugs to us. Lily took one and motioned for me to take the other.

  “I can’t do this,” I protested, taking the mug from the priestess.

  “Why not?” Lily asked.

  “I’m almost naked.”

  “You’ll learn over time to be less ashamed of your body, it’s beautiful. It is how we’re born,” Lily said.

  “Yes, but… but…” I sighed. “It’s the culture I come from.”

  “You’re no longer confined by the social structures you were raised with. Be free, you’re free here.”

  “Free. Sure.” Free and naked. “What is this?” As I put the mug to my nose and sniffed, my face crinkled up in disgust.

  “This is a traditional ceremonial drink. It will help to lower your defenses and enhance your perceptions, so you can experience the Connective and everyone in it,” she explained as she drank it quickly. “Drink, it’ll help you relax,”

  “Okay. Maybe I do need that.” I downed it all at once, as she did, and almost gagged, “That’s the vilest stuff ever.” The liquid surged through my body, a dizzying heat growing as my blood spread the opiates, and I was seeing double within a minute. “What wasss tthhhattt?” Slurring my words, I put my hand out to catch myself from falling. One of the priestesses held me up.

  “As I said, it’s our ceremonial drink, a sacred formula. To enhance the experience,” she repeated.

  The moment I glanced up at her, my vision grew blurry, and she intermittently grew two heads.

  One of the priestesses handed me off to Lily who helped me stand. “You’ll develop a better tolerance in time.”

  The priestesses opened the two white doors and a big cloud of white smoke wafted out, welcoming us. The energy of the place engulfed us, and drew us into the room.

  As we entered, the haze of smoke and colors made seeing difficult. My eyes adjusted and many people formed a huge spiral and moved in tempo with the drum’s beat.

  A line of men and women stood along the wall with various types of drums all keeping a steady, deep beat.

  In between the drummers, men stood holding large, thick sticks, decorated with rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. They pounded them into the ground, causing it to throb, making me unsteady on my feet. Primal chanting blended with drums.

  Vibrations coursed throughout my body, altering what I saw. Barely able to stand, every cell in my body pulsated.

  Beside me, Lily also moved her body to the beat. At the start of the spiral, she placed my hand in one of a complete stranger. In that instant, all sound ceased.

  With his hand, the stranger gently gripped my arm, his hand firmly planted over the electroreceptors. The beating of the drums, sticks, and chants resumed, in a different and faster beat. A flood of images coursed through my mind and as his whole world and psyche opened up to me—I knew his name, his history, and his life in an instant. He went in and out of focus and grew two heads, as Lily had, and then I realized I’d been passed to the next person.

  Like the first man, when I touched this woman, she repeated the movement down the electroreceptors on my arm and I knew her. Then I was moved to another man.

  One by one through the spiral of people, I passed from one to another. Over nine hundred souls introduced themselves to me, simply by a touch. I came to know their histories and hopes, finally understanding what it meant to be a part of the Connective.

  My head is going to explode.

  At the end of the spiral, in the center of the circle, when I reached out to the next man, my hand slipped into Roman’s.

  Time stopped.

  My breath caught in my throat. As our hands met, he touched his fingertips down my arm, allowing me access to his inner world. In my head his voice said, “I was a gladiator during the time of the Roman Empire. I fought in the arenas. I killed many men, some I considered friends, in the name of entertainment.”

  Goosebumps rose up all over my body and instantly I saw it all. Roman stood in an arena, cheered on by an ancient people whose bones were now dust. A celebrity in his time, he became successful at brutally killing. Shamelessly, he’d slaughtered hundreds of men, whose blood he wore mixed with his own. Time after time, he was wounded and bleeding as death knocked at his soul.

  Tormented by pain from physical wounds and the knowledge of what he had done to survive, he retired; a rare accomplishment. He then married and went on to teach young men the ruthless secrets of staying alive in the ring.

  His life fast-forwarded and I saw him making love to his wife, and the birth of his children. The love he had for them was more powerful than his guilt. A strong sense of honor, emanating from the core of his being, defined him.

  Roman’s deep voice echoed in my head again. “I fell overboard one day when I was out fishing with a friend. A storm ravaged our boat and it sunk. I died. The Mers saved me—I guess.”

  Then I saw the memory. A fierce storm rolled in out of nowhere and took them by surprise. The intense choking fear he experienced, I felt too. I was with him as a tall wave knocked him overboard, and I lived his agony as he died.

  My heart couldn’t take anymore—I thought it would burst into a million pieces, and I tried to pull away from him. Filled with a quiet desperation, a heavy grey cloud filled me as he grabbed my arm and held on, wanting to finish his story.


  As I continued to stare into his eyes, I learned how his life had been when he first transformed. Confusion on waking, panic, and anger at knowing your human life was now over and having to leave it behind—I knew these feelings all too well.

  Absolute despair at not being able to go home to his wife and children consumed him. Primal, raw fear for them, and their welfare, terrorized him more than any arena opponent ever had. Who would protect them?

  It had taken months before he attempted his first escape. To be down here, this far under the sea, with no sensory dampener was a painful hell. Tormented screaming shattered what remained of his humanity, and his sanity.

  Roman returned to search for his wife and children a year after his death, to find them living with another man. Betrayal ripped his soul apart as he’d watch from afar—his wife making love to a new husband and his children calling someone else their father. Roman watched, day and night, until the Mers found him.

  He was almost dead from having been out of the sea too long.

  The years hardened him, allowing his brewing anger to fester. Sometimes he crossed the line into madness, but he would regain his senses after forced hibernation.

  The gift of longevity became a curse as he watched his wife and children die. He lived through hundreds of years while his descendants passed. The agonizing pain at the losses burned as fresh and raw as the first time.

  Now, I understood why they didn’t fully integrate him. Stuck in his painful hell of being alive, he feared dying and reaching the other side without his wife and children there to embrace him. The belief he would burn, condemned to the lavas of Tartarus for the blood of so many men on his hands, made him grasp onto this life with a wretched hopelessness.

  Taking both of my hands into his, he showed me the years, how long and torturous they were. My breath came in short pants and I grew light-headed as I absorbed all the tangled emotions from him.

  At the forefront, his deep-seated conviction a life this long was a curse and punishment for his sins, ultimately becoming the unconscious pattern for his coarse behavior.

  Fast-forwarding, he showed me the moment he met me, and how his heart ignited for the first time in centuries.

  He allowed me to see what he experienced as he watched the tiger shark attack me. How he’d charged from behind, and unable to deter the shark with a hit to the snout, was forced to wound him. Fleeting rage toward me, more than the animal, for having to harm the creature—it went against their beliefs and the role the Mers had vowed to uphold as protectors of the ocean. Yet, his fear for me, born of my ignorance of their ways, was overwhelming, and I couldn’t breathe. Savage wrath and raw strength frightened me.

  I relived the night in the cave through his eyes. Fear, and then the spark of love that ignited in his cold, dead heart. Sexual energy, absorbed from the couple making love coursed through his body, and made restraining himself a challenge. So different from the culture he’d come from, he had to wrestle inside of himself to banish tendencies toward hedonistic impulses.

  Later, his heart would surge when he saw me, healing after centuries of being alone.

  When he saw David on top of me, choking the life out of me, he wanted to kill him—he could’ve snapped his neck easily. But he hadn’t wanted me to see him in such a savage and brutal light, so again he restrained his impulses. I experienced his hatred for David, and for what David had done, and how he wanted to spare me the trial of what he’d gone through—living with the torturous guilt of having killed.

  Roman revealed his joy at seeing me, teasing me, and touching me. Then his feelings of rejection, hurt at my judgments, and his inability to explain. How he’d wanted to run, and escape heartbreak all over again.

  For the people in the Connective, explaining was a foreign concept. Everyone already knew what was required. He’d grown used to not having to find the words, and it was difficult to relearn.

  Staring into each other’s eyes, I received all this information instantly. A lifetime composed of painful centuries, transmitted to me in the blink of an eye. Overwhelmed, my head throbbed as if threatening to split in two with the surplus of memories.

  As I pulled back, I wondered if he’d had the same experience with my memories. Grabbing his arm, I tried to do as Lily said, and project my thoughts to him.

  Vividly, I thought about the days on the cruise ship with David, the ones leading up to my death. I bared to him all the ugliness, haunting my dreams night after night. The ones of the fight we’d had. The moments leading up to David pushing me off the balcony and turning to walk away.

  Letting him see the last few minutes of my human life and my first minutes upon awakening here, as raw as they still were, was a huge step in trusting him. I allowed him to feel the emotions I experienced when realized I lost my baby and then awe when I found out my baby was still alive.

  I showed him my perception of the first time I’d met him and every encounter since then. Cautiously, I let him feel what I felt for him, and how it had grown over time.

  Lily returned and led me to the outer ring of people waiting to take my hand. Disappointed, I watched as Roman disappeared into the smoke and haze.

  Chapter 21

  By the time I made it back to my quarters, my head swirled, and my nerves were fried. Sick to my stomach, I crashed into my bed without undressing, praying for sleep to stop the nausea.

  Sleep didn’t come. I laid there, my head spinning, flooded with information, and unable to stop it all from becoming a tangled mess in my mind. Even my skin hurt to the touch. Worst hangover ever.

  Needing sleep, I wanted to crawl into a deep, black hole, and curl up into a fetal position away from all the stimulation.

  I hadn’t seen Roman again all night. He disappeared as if he hadn’t been there to begin with. Maybe I imagined it.

  Helpless to stop the echo, my mind replayed everyone’s memories, making my brain hurt—I wanted rest.

  To differentiate my memories from all of theirs, I would need time in a dark and quiet room to do nothing but process.

  Please make it all stop.

  Desperate for relief, I got out of bed and walked to the Healing Center in search of Lucas. He gave me the same sleep aide I used my first night here and I returned to my bed.

  It was near dawn before I finally drifted off to sleep. My dreams were no longer my own, filled with images of lives I hadn’t lived, and places I haven’t been. Exhaustion still plagued me when I woke up around sunset.

  I lay there, not moving, when a piercingly loud tap on my door startled me. Go away.

  There was a pause and then a louder tap. Oh, all right. I trudged over to the door and opened it, ready to yell at whoever had intruded upon my respite.

  Roman leaned against the opposite wall, looking sexy in a white linen shirt, brown leather pants, and brown suede boots that laced up to his knees. So he does have shirts, interesting. My heart swelled at the sight—simply looking at him made me feel better.

  “Roman, I wasn’t expecting you,” I stammered.

  “I can see that.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, but I feel terrible today, I’m not good company.”

  “You’re sick?” he asked, walking toward me.

  “My brain is fried from last night. I’m not able to sleep and I feel horribly hung-over,” I mumbled, nervously trying to smooth my bed hair. As I stepped back from the door, I stumbled.

  Roman caught me, and lifted me up into his arms. “Are you all right?”

  “I really don’t feel well at all…”

  He carried me over to my bed, and laid me down. “You’re burning up.”

  I whispered, “Why are you here?”

  “Lily sent me to brief you on a situation. But I’m more concerned about you being sick. I’ll need to get Lucas.”

  “Wait,” I whimpered, grabbing his hand as he turned to go. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Fine. I’ll take you to the Healing Center.” Effortlessly, he picked me up again and car
ried me out of my quarters.

  As he walked, I took my hand, and touched his face, feeling the texture of the stubble of his beard.

  “You confuse me,” he admitted.

  “I know—I’m sorry. Big changes. Need time to adjust.”

  “I understand.”

  Then I must have passed out, because the next time I opened my eyes, I was in a bed Lily and Lucas were standing at the foot looking concerned.

  Lucas did a full body scan, then said, “You are dehydrated, dear, we will need to hydrate you. When was the last time you went for a swim in the ocean?”

  “I don’t remember exactly. It’s all a blur with the new connections.” I looked over at Roman, remembering the fight after our last swim.

  “It needs to be more often. Try to get in the water every day,” Lucas admonished. He then hooked-up an IV drip, and gave me an injection of something, before he and Lily left me alone with Roman.

  “You’ll feel better when you get some fluids in you. How did this happen?” Roman asked.

  “It was hot in the temple and I remember sweating a lot. I was still out of it when I went back to my quarters. It’s all fuzzy, and everything is jumbled up together,” I shrugged.

  “You have to be more careful,” he scolded.

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t lecture me, Mr. Disappearing Act. You said something about a situation?” I perked up, hoping to have some good news about David and the knife. If they’d retrieved it, then I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

  “It can wait till you feel better.”

  “Tell me, I’m feeling better already.” To illustrate, I sat up in the bed.

  “I can tell you’re lying.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “I’ve tried multiple times to dream-walk David without success. It’s the timing. So, I went back and tried to follow him, but he saw me.”

  “Well, yeah, it’s not as if someone of your stature can hide.” I laughed. The idea of Roman trying to be covert was hysterical.