by Lynn Landes
“Now that’s a damn shame, wasting good spirits,” Aiden taunts.
“I'll kill you boy! Have you come to gloat! I will be up and about soon enough! Then you will wish I had died!!” He sputters trying to push himself up into a sitting position.
“Now, there’s no need for that. I came with news.” He leans close and whispers, “I found her.”
Eustace ignores the pain ripping through his body, and he pushes up from his sweat-stained pillow. “Where!”
Ignoring the question, Aiden twists his black mustache. “I brought you a gift, father.” He leans in the hallway and grabs a fourteen-year-old Indian girl by the arm, pulling her into the room. “I named her Maria. She will nurse you while I'm gone.”
Eustace grins at his son, and the smile does not reach his eye. Maria is trembling with fear, but she hurries to help when he struggles to sit back. “That’s more like it, Aiden. Tell me where she is?”
“San Francisco. A surveyor came to town yesterday with the deed to the property. The bitch has sold it to the bank!”
All color fades from Eustace's face. “No!!!” he roars, and Maria shrinks away from him. Spittle flies from his lips, and he trembles with rage.
Aiden quakes with a rage that matches his fathers. “She fucked us all. They will strip the mine, and we will not see a dime from it!”
“We will have to double our efforts to dig. The workers must get all they can before that happens. They will take months to…”
“She buried that mine,” Aiden snaps out. “It will take months just to get back to the primary vein. Our only hope is to get to her before that happens. I can marry her, then her property will be mine. It won’t be hard to find a judge to date the marriage license for us.”
Eustace thinks about it and smiles. “Yes, but when you find her, I want her alive! She will suffer for what she has done. Wire me, and I will come to you!”
“You are in no condition to travel, but I promise to bring her back to you.” Eustace reaches for the young Maria and snaps at his son.
“Go and don’t fail me! It’s time for my bath,” he says leering at the terrified girl. Aiden sneers in disgust and leaves laughing at the sound of Maria’s cries.
“Time to follow this surveyor. He will lead me straight to her!”
The screams of the dead never rest. They wait until the mind sleeps to torment the soul with endless pain. A scream of rage echoes across the land, bouncing off the mountains and she hears agony mixed with the anger.
Ashes drift on the winds and blow across the dry plains, igniting the acres of Wolfe Ranch in a cleansing inferno. In the distance she can make out a rider, barreling through the fire seeking the source of the scream. A grim smile crosses her pale lips, and she wonders, will he be in time to save him.
Cassie wakes covered in sweat and tears. She can still smell the scent of fire and cringes from the remembered heat of the blaze. With a trembling hand, she pushes the hair from her tortured eyes. Rushing to the bathroom Cassie begins to dress. For a moment the scent of the burning wood fills her nose. When she washes her face, she realizes she can recall every detail, almost as though it were a memory not dream.
Glancing in the mirror, she goes perfectly still and closes her eyes. Her mind's eye and grabs the thread of what she left behind and follows it. Her eyes open and she watches the rider skid to a stop in front of her burning home. He leaps from his horse and runs straight through Cassie, startling her, and she drops the thread.
Taking a deep breath, Cassie closes her eyes once again and begins. Now she sees Aiden, the son of Eustace, screaming for his father. A muffled response has him leaping into action. He grabs a rope from his saddle and tosses it to his father who manages to wrap it around his waist. Aiden uses the strength of the horse to his advantage and begins pulling his father to safety.
The first jerky movement causes a scream ripping through the night. Eustace roared in agony, clutching his arm. Cassie moves to watch, and her first sight of her enemy has her jumping back in horror. Gone is the man who once was and in his place is a monster! His outside finally matches his soul, and Cassie doesn't know if she should feel sorry or thankful. Aiden drags the limp body over the edge and rolls it over revealing the black and charred bits remaining around the blistered and swollen face.
Cassie moves closer leaning over Aiden and blocks out the swearing and cursing coming from his mouth. One of Eustace's eyes is completely melted shut and the other snaps open, peering into Cassie's soul. His hand grabs her throat, and he stares at her, though his lashless eye and screams at her.
“I’m coming for you, witch!!!” Cassie screams leaping backward and choking. She slips on the floor and falls down crying in horror.
After a few moments, she picks herself up and changes into her day dress. “Time's up, Cassie.” Dalton is a beautiful dream, but he deserves better than to be dragged into the middle of this. Maybe she will find some answers in the hotel library. Her gifts are changing, and she's scared. As quietly as she can, Cassie slips out of the suite and goes in search of answers.
Chapter 10
The library is in the center of the hotel near the conservatory. Mahogany colored bookcases and sitting areas with large fireplaces. Beautiful chandeliers glisten, and Cassandra enters before sunrise, happy to find herself alone except for one older gentleman. She draws her shawl, tight around her shoulders and moves towards the desk.
“Can I help you miss?” a soft voice asks.
Cassie turns and sees a young female dusting the shelves. “Yes, please. I am looking for some books on the history of mystique or magic. Can you show me any books on magic that you might have?” The girl smiles and gestures for her to follow along.
She leads her to an empty corner. “This section of the library is all the literature regarding mystics or magic.” She hurries out to finish cleaning.
A sigh of relief flutters from Cassie’s lips. Alone at last, she thinks. She moves along softly reading the titles and picks out a few to read. She quickly settles into a chair by the fireplace and begins to skim the book looking for anything that may help her.
A noise draws her attention, and she looks up and smiles at the kindly looking older gentleman who is returning a book to the shelf. “Hello.” She says and glances back down, turning the pages quickly looking for any information on the visions.
“I can’t help but notice we share an interest in the same subject.” His deep voice says shaking her from her concentration.
“Yes, just a little light reading. I couldn’t sleep.” She says, snapping the book shut in frustration.
“Louis Constant, French magician at your service,” he says bowing at the waist.
Cassie looks at him, truly for the first time now. He is in his sixties, balding, long gray beard sprinkled with white. He wears spectacles and walks with a cane. She guesses that he will try to sell her a love potion or read her fortune. “I'm not interested…” she starts to say, but his laugh cuts her short.
“I'm not interested in selling you a love potion, but I could read your fortune if you would like.” Cassie is shocked into stupefied silence. He read her mind.
“You read my mind?”
“Oh, no. May I join you?” He asks politely and takes a seat at her nod.
“I make it a habit of never reading minds, but you pushed your thoughts at me. Sometimes I'm caught unaware. Forgive an old man, Ms.?” He pleads placing his cane beside the chair and puts his books on the table.
“Cassandra Wolfe-Rivers,” she quickly corrects.
“Now tell me, Mrs. Rivers, what drives a young woman to a library at this time of the morning? What are you hoping to discover in these books?” he asks, tapping one of the dusty covers.
“I, I’ve never met another person with my gift, Monsieur Constant. I was taught by my grandmother and mother to hide it. Never share it, and in doing so I never learned to control it, and now it is changing,” she whispers.
“Tell me about your family,
Cassandra. I am more than a magician who does parlor tricks. I write books so that others with unique abilities like ours, will find answers when we need them and understand where these gifts come from.”
Cassie looks at him and decides to trust her instinct. “My Grandmother was born in Germany but came to America as a married woman. She never shared with her husband, her ability to read minds. She had five children, but only her daughter received the gift. My mother as well. They taught me to hide it and never show it.” Cassie stands and begins pacing.
“They were murdered and I, well, I used it for the first time. Monsieur Constant, I wanted to get away, and I wanted their deaths to count for something. Things are changing quickly now. It seems the more I use it, the more my gifts change. Can you tell me what is happening?” she pleads desperately.
“I can help you understand the history and talents you possess, but first I shall order some tea.” He taps his cane, and the young girl comes running.
Cassie sits and smiles thinking isn’t life strange? Here I am, at three in the morning, having tea with a magician in the most beautiful hotel in the world. He turns back to her with a smile and responds, “Indeed. But this is hardly the most beautiful hotel in the world. France will always hold that honor.”
She laughs and apologizes. “Did I do it again?”
He waits until the tea is served and turns back to her. “Not your fault my dear. If what you're telling me is true, it makes perfect sense. I was born with these gifts, Cassandra, and it has taken me every bit of my sixty-three years to master them. I do not have all the answers, but I can help you. Did your family show any other gifts besides telepathy?” At the look of confusion on her face, he clarifies.
“Telepathy means to communicate silently with the mind. Not only can you take a person’s ideas,” he finishes speaking and says to her mind, ‘but you can project thoughts to and from receptive people.’
Cassie is shocked and a little frightened.
“Not that I know of. They always blocked. My grandmother believed it was spirits talking to her. My mother did not believe that, but she did agree it would be best to hide our ability.” Cassie sits down hard by the fireplace and whispers, “Am I evil? Is the devil working through me?”
Monsieur Constant gets up and moves slowly to the chair next to her. “My dear a person is judged by the actions they take. You are only evil if you believe you are evil.”
“I have done things, terrible things and I fear that it’s not over. My gifts are showing me images of things to come. Where before I could only see the thoughts or intentions of others, now I see, smell and can almost touch the images before me. What is happening to me?” She begs for understanding.
He holds her hand, “You are having visions. Telepathy is almost always paired with precognition. Cassandra that means you possess the power to glimpse the future. Not the absolute future, but one of the futures that may be. Nothing is set in stone, actions and choices alter the path of each individual. Our meeting was not by accident.”
“But how do I stop it? I want… I need to rest! I’m so tired.” She drops her head into her hands, and he reaches out to touch her. He feels the pain and misery weighing her down, and he wishes he could help. In her mind, he finds death. So much death, and in the background a baby cries for its mother and loved ones who beg for him to help her.
“Cassandra,” he replies in a hoarse voice. “A magus seeks above all else, peace. It is peace that your family cries out for. They do not wish for you to live in misery. You must find a way to forgive yourself and move forward. God's will is unstoppable. If all things happen according to his will, then you would not have been able to save them.”
She glances up at him and whispers, “That Monsieur Constant is how a guilty mind justifies its actions. I hold no such hope for my soul because in order to be forgiven you must first be sorry, and I am not sorry for what I have done.”
He is startled at such honesty and such ferocity in one so young. “That may be true, but you can grow to accept your choices and move past them. Those who survive atrocities like yours must learn to live with the consequences. Lying to yourself would only be the death of your soul.” He takes her hands tightly in his and closes his eyes.
“Your family is waiting for you, Cassandra. Your Father, Mother, Grandmother, and husband, Jim. Your baby girl too. They are watching over you and praying for your safety.”
When she tries to jerk away in shock, he opens his brown eyes and stares hard at her. “You carry with you all the hopes and dreams that they held in their hearts. Your survival was not because of an action you took, it was the will of our almighty creator. Accept that and seek peace, not revenge! Any other action will only bring more death.”
Her soft weeping brings him back from his vision, and he releases her hands.
“I will try. I will try.” She replies after her tears slow.
“Excellent. Now then, I shall teach you how to control your visions and block properly, unless you do not wish to block. Your gifts are going to expand rapidly because you have uncapped the potential. It will eventually reach its full capacity, until then you need to rest and study. Rest when you can and observe the simple rules I’ve lined out for you. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, I can.”
Before she leaves, he gives her an autographed copy of his book titled, “The Transcendental Mystiques.” It is fact filled with the history of magic.
“Thank you. You have given me hope. I shall cherish it and study hard. Will I see you at the ball this evening?” she asks.
“Of course, I shall make my rounds. Practice blocking before the ball, Cassandra. Entering a room with that many intentions is hard for a normal person, let alone one as gifted as you.” He kisses her cheek before parting ways.
Cassie sits quietly by the fireplace and collects her book before heading back to her room. If her vision was correct, then Eustace is coming after her. The only thing to do is erase her trail, but first, she must tell Dalton of her past. It isn't fair to drag him into this, but it is too late for those worries.
When Cassie returns to her suite, she finds Mr. Astor waiting for her outside her door. “Madame, your husband insisted I give you this personally.” He hands her a sealed note and opens the door for her.
“Thank you, Mr. Astor.” She says quietly and shuts the door. Walking to the burning fireplace, she slips open the note.
Dear Cassie,
I had some ranch business that needed my attention. Tonight, is the Palace Ball, and I look forward to spending another evening in your company. Today I hope that you rest and catch up on your sleep.
Yours truly,
Dalton
She sighs and presses the note to her chest. Cassie yawns and decides to read some of her books and take a nap. Her dress should arrive sometime early afternoon, and she has a feeling she will need her rest for the ball tonight. Monsieur Constant said that large groups are difficult to block. Perhaps Dalton will be okay if they don't stay very long. She falls asleep thinking of his mouth on hers and his arms around her.
Chapter 11
The Surveyor
Solomon Abbott has been working for the last five years for Mr. Wells. His job is simple; survey and report back. If the report is positive, he sets up the mining camp and hires the workers to get the job done fast. He hires the best, only those who are well acquainted with a gun and the mining industry. Both go hand in hand.
The old techniques of dry washing are crude but effective. “Sheriff Bower, I will be camping here for a few nights before sending my report on. I promise not to get in the way of the workers.”
“No problem, Mr. Abbott. I must admit I was surprised to learn that Cassandra Wolfe is in San Francisco, we thought she had died in the fire or mining accident.” The older man looks at Solomon waiting for a response.
“I only report, sir. I really wouldn't know anything about that. How large is the parcel of land here?” He asks purposely avoiding
the prying question.
“Just about a thousand acres. Mr. Wolfe inherited it from his grandfather who homesteaded the land. When he discovered the mine, he did the opposite of what most would have done. He opened the mine and offered a percentage to any who wanted to work it.” Sheriff Bower’s voice grows husky, “He was a good man.”
Solomon glances at the Sheriff with unease. “Why did his daughter run? If things were so amicable, why leave?”
A flash of fear is gone quickly, and the older man turns away, “I don't rightly know. Perhaps losing the last of her family left her feeling alone and hopeless. I can show you the mine.”
He turns his horse and Solomon follows feeling like there is more to this story. When they arrive at the mine shock flickers across his face. The high mountainside is strewn with rubble. The surrounding trees are blackened from fire, and the grass is a burned and lifeless field.
“What happened here?”
“It was a freak accident, from what we can tell whoever was mining hit a gas pocket and it went from the mine to the main home through a cave or something. The house collapsed with a group of men inside, and the dynamite stored in the barn exploded when the house did. It burned for three days before we were able to slow it down. Rain showers helped. I suggest you be careful where you dig and where you camp, Mr. Abbott. There will be some who won't be happy about you being here. You know where to find me if you need anything.” With that warning, the sheriff leaves.
Solomon watches the man ride away and sighs. He is rarely invited to Sunday supper. Most see him as a threat, but he survived his service in the army, which gave him a specific useful skill set. He can handle these people. Though something about the Sheriff's story isn't adding up. He rides around the mine being sure to stay clear of those who are working it. The surrounding damage and burn marks are extreme.