The Trinity Sisters

by Kristin Coley

  His face was tight with concentration, as he reached out his hand, and my body felt paralyzed, the only movement the wild thumping of my heart. Time slowed, as I watched his finger stretch toward my bare stomach, and I realized why he wanted to touch me there. If he felt bare skin, he would know the truth. My stomach tightened, instinctively pulling further from the inexorable touch of his finger to my skin. Finally, the warmth of him brushed against my skin, and then the blunt tip of his finger pressed gently against my stomach. My exhale matched his, as the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding escaped me.

  Our eyes locked, as the tiny touch branded me, sending a flicker of flame through my body and destroying the ice that had encased my soul without my knowledge. The double images I had seen reflected in his eyes shifted, until only the true me remained. We breathed in unison, the place where his finger touched my skin feeling like a tether, and without it I might drift away. The clawing desire to run away, to hide who I was, disappeared in the moments we breathed together. He altered me in those breaths, and I couldn’t help but believe it was for the better.

  “Who are you?” His voice was an aching whisper that called to the deepest part of my soul. I could no more lie to him than I could refuse to take another breath.

  “Sinclair Monroe Davis,” I answered slowly, each word a reclaiming of the girl I had left behind so long ago.

  He took a deep breath, and I unconsciously mimicked him. “Well, Sin, where do we go from here?”

  I smirked at his shortening of my name. “Well,” I drawled, “You can start by saying my name correctly.”

  “Oh, but I am. If ever there was a woman on this earth that should have the name Sin, it would be you,” he replied, his eyes glowing with a heat that seemed to wrap around me. The jarring sound of a cellphone broke the spell winding between us, but his eyes never left mine, as he fished the ringing phone out of his pocket.

  “Spencer,” he barked into the phone, and I wondered if that was his first or last name. A frown marred his expression, as he listened intently to the person on the other side. “On my way,” he grunted, before sliding the phone into his pocket. I was intimately aware of his finger still resting on my stomach.

  “I have to go.” I quirked an eyebrow at the obvious statement. He smiled at my expression and pressed his finger deeper into my stomach. “We’re not through.” I shook my head. “Why do I feel like the second I stop touching you, you’re going to disappear on me?” he asked roughly. I gave a short, quick shake of my head. I wouldn’t leave. I wasn’t sure I could anymore. His touch had claimed me in a way I had never believed possible. The heavy thump of my heart told me I didn’t want to lose his touch either. His finger trailed down my stomach slowly, prolonging our contact for as long as possible. The barest skim of his nail flickered across my skin, before he was gone. A shuddering breath escaped me, as I swayed toward him, wanting to follow. He clenched his fist, the tendons standing out against his skin, as if he was stopping himself from reaching for me.

  “I have to go.” His words came from deep inside, guttural, as he forced himself to take a step back. I nodded, afraid to speak, in case I begged him to stay. This wasn’t logical. I wasn’t this girl who needed this man. I had known he was dangerous to me, but I never could have predicted just how dangerous he would be to my heart.

  He backed down the steps, his eyes never leaving mine. I clung to the porch railing, unwilling to show my own weakness by running after him. He turned and opened the door to his car, and I cried out, “Wait.” He turned, as if he had expected me to call to him, or perhaps needed me to. A ghost of a smile played on my lips, as I asked him, “What’s your name?” His eyes lowered, as a chagrined smile crossed his own lips.

  “Luke Spencer.”

  I nodded, biting my lip and watching, as he slid into his car. As he drove away, I knew my life had been irretrievably altered, once again. There were only three moments of my life clearly etched into my mind: the night my mother separated us; the day my power had broken through; and now today, when I touched my future.

  Chapter Five

  “And they lived happily ever after,” Momma whispered quietly, closing the storybook. I snuggled closer to her, my head resting on her round belly. Kincaid sighed, “I can’t wait to meet my Prince Charming.”

  “You’re too little,” I said, knowingly, my advanced age making me smarter, since I had just turned six and took every opportunity to remind her I was two years older than her.

  “One day!” she said, glaring at me across Momma’s stomach, where baby Quinn slept.

  “Girls,” Momma chided with a smile. “One day, both of you will meet your Prince Charming, and it will be even more wonderful than this fairy tale,” she told us, tapping her finger on the cover of the book. I laid my head back down, growing sleepy, as Momma stroked our backs gently. She told us it wouldn’t be long before baby Quinn joined us for our nightly story time. I couldn’t help but sense her sadness at that knowledge, and it worried me. Momma had been excited about our new little sister, but something had changed the day Kincaid and I felt her kick for the first time. “My girls, I know you’ll meet the man that completes you both; the one that will protect you and love you when I cannot.” I rubbed my face against her tummy, water leaking from my eyes at the tone of her voice. “He’ll be strong and good and kind,” she said, her voice growing stronger and determined. “He will help you.”

  “How will we know him?” I whispered, frightened that I wouldn’t find the Prince that would help us.

  Momma’s voice was gentle as she said, “By his touch.” She tapped both of us on the hand. “You’re very lucky little girls. Your destiny is special. The touch of your one true love will let you know when you’ve found him.” She pulled us tighter to her. “And together, you’ll be strong enough to defeat even the worst evil.”

  I woke from the dream, breathless. It was the first time in years I had dreamed of a happier time with my mother, and I knew instinctively it was an actual memory coming back to me. One that explained the inexplicable connection I had felt with Luke Spencer. My desire to know the truth of why our mother had separated us and what had happened to her grew more resolute. Fear and survival were no longer my main concerns. I had found the Prince she knew would come, and it was time I challenged the past that held me.

  I was sliding bread into the toaster, when Serafin told me we had company. Her meow was distinctive when someone approached; an early warning system that had protected me more often than not. But today, the racing of my heart indicated a different type of threat, one that had heat flashing up my spine and chills racing across my skin. I found myself dancing to the door, an effervescent joy radiating from me. The feeling was strange, oddly pleasant, and difficult to fight. Not that I really wanted to fight the feeling, but it was as if a stranger had overtaken me; a girl who believed in fairy tales and happily ever afters, instead of strict self-reliance.

  I threw open the door, just as his hand raised to knock. We stood staring at one another, both hesitant, as we wondered if what had happened the day before was real. Luke turned his hand and reached toward my face. I held my breath as he brushed his fingers along my cheek. The burning sensation should have taken me by surprise, but instead felt right.

  A half-smile lifted one side of his face. “Yep. I didn’t imagine that.”

  I smiled back at him, unable to stop myself. We stood awkwardly for a few moments, as I tried to figure out what came next. Finally, the rumble of my stomach shook me from my thoughts, and I stepped back from the door, indicating he should come in. He nodded, looking as dazed as I felt.

  “Would you like breakfast? I have toast.” I glanced at him, as I said it and caught his nod before exclaiming, “Toast! Damn it.” I raced into the kitchen, only to smell burnt toast. I sighed and popped the toast up from the toaster. Its timer had broken months before, but instead of buying a new one, I just stood and watched my toast. Except today, today I had black crumbs. I shook the to
aster over the garbage to get the last of the burnt pieces out, as Luke looked on.

  “Should I take this as an indication of your cooking skills?” he asked, holding back a grin. My own amusement at the situation wouldn’t allow me to be offended by his innocuous implication.

  “I don’t know.” I threw him a flirty smile; one I didn’t even realize I knew how to make. “How good a cook are you?”

  “I get along with the microwave.” He nodded at my hands cradling my smoky toaster. “And the toaster. Would you like me to make the toast?” I laughed at his response and nodded. Where there should have been incredible awkwardness, there was instead an easiness in our interactions. We both knew the questions would come, but for the moment, it was enough to be in one another’s presence. He grabbed bread to make more toast, as I sliced up hard boiled eggs and set out fruit. Serafin observed our actions from her perch on the counter, her tail twitching lightly when Luke would glance at her.

  We sat at the table and ate in a comfortable silence. More than once, I caught him studying me, a bemused look on his face. I couldn’t help my own covert glances. Momma had been right when she said we were lucky little girls. Whereas some girls may have needed to kiss a frog to find her prince, I did not. His face could have been chiseled from stone, a five o’clock shadow gracing an angular jaw. Even the dark circles under his eyes, from a sleepless night, didn’t detract from his perfection.

  “What exactly do you do?” he finally asked, his words hesitant, as if unsure of what he was asking.

  “I run a magic company for kid’s birthday parties. You know, tricks, illusions, things like that. We make the magic happen!” I replied, forcing my voice higher, as I sang the tagline Garvin had come up with.

  His smile was faint, as he looked at me. “That’s good to know. Not precisely what I was asking but, good to know nonetheless.” I smirked at him, before casting an illusion.

  “Hey, man, good to see you here. I kept telling Roe she needed to get her a man,” Garvin exclaimed, striding toward the table, as he spoke to Luke. I could see Luke’s surprise at Garvin’s sudden entrance, and he stood quickly, his hand outstretched. A moment later, he cocked his head and sat back down.

  “Man, don’t be like that. You might be my type, but I don’t poach.” Garvin told him, leaning in. I smiled at the look on Luke’s face. He shook his head at me, and I could see again the double vision reflected in his eyes. There was Garvin standing by my shoulder in a Hawaiian print shirt and then nothing, just Serafin sitting on the counter observing us. I allowed the illusion to dissolve and shook my own head.

  “And I’d like to know exactly how you do that,” I told him with a rueful twist of my lips.

  “I have no idea.” Luke replied, settling back in his chair. “But what you can do …. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes ….” His eyes narrowed, as he gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t think I would believe it.”

  “What do you see exactly?” I leaned forward, curious about this. “When I look in your eyes it’s as if I can see the illusion and the reality side by side. Is that what you see?”

  He took a deep breath. “No, not really. It’s more like double vision.” He leaned in toward me, his hands clasped loosely in front of mine, distracting me. “Almost like they fade in and out. Faulty reception?” he ended, a question lingering in his tone. My hands moved, of their own volition, closer to his. “At first it’s strong, but then it’s as if it fades out, like an old TV that needs the antenna adjusted. And if I focus really hard, I can see through it.”

  I nodded in understanding, “Yesterday on the porch?”

  His thumb scooted out and brushed against my fingers. “Yes,” he replied, as I shifted my own fingers, until my pinky rested against his thumb. The touch was soothing and unsettling by turns. Anytime we touched, butterflies erupted inside of me, tickling my insides, but at the same time, it grounded me. A firm connection to this exact place and time, his touch acted as a key to my past, as well. I knew I would dream of my mother again tonight.

  “I could see you standing there in your dress, covered in pink glitter, but I also saw you standing there in mismatched underwear, and I knew I couldn’t make that up.” I rolled my eyes at his noticing my underwear was mismatched. “When I reached out to touch you, I only wanted to confirm what I was seeing was real.” He rubbed his thumb against my pinky. “I didn’t know this existed.”

  “Neither did I,” I replied, hooking my pinky around his thumb. “You seem very accepting of this,” I mentioned, looking down at our entwined fingers. “How?”

  “When I was eighteen, I joined the Army. Serve my country. Follow in the footsteps of my father and grandfather. And my brother.” I could hear the pain lace through his voice when he said brother and knew he was dead. “I did several tours in my six years with the Army. You see things, go places, where normal doesn’t look like it does here. There was a woman in a village somewhere in the Middle East. I couldn’t tell you where. My buddy and I were ambushed. She hid us in her hut. The soldiers came demanding to be let in, but she turned them away. They could have stormed in, but there was something in her voice. It was compelling. You wanted to obey her. Her words echoed to me. She told me I was special, that I could hear that echo, that the world would be more open to me than others. She led us to safety after the soldiers departed.” He paused. “I don’t know why she chose to save us that day.”

  “I’m glad she did.” Tightening my pinky around his thumb, I sent a quick thank you to the nameless woman that had risked her life for the man in front of me. Perhaps, she knew I would need him. I took a deep breath before diving in. “I can cast illusions.” The words came out in a rush, and I looked up at him through my eyelashes, gauging his reaction. His face was calm, steady, patiently waiting for me to continue, so I did. “I don’t know how. Garvin thinks I’m a voodoo priestess. But I don’t think I am.” His touch kept me centered, as I attempted to explain an ability I had never fully understood. My dark hair fell forward, as I studied the scratches on the plain wooden tabletop. Our fingers brushed, as we both reached up to tuck it back behind my ear. His faint smile encouraged me.

  “Garvin knows?” he prompted me. I released my breath and nodded, looking at him.

  “He’s the only one. Well, beside you. Now.” My clarification seemed to amuse him. “Garvin saw me cast an illusion. He caught me in a weak moment. Otherwise, he never would have known.” I twisted my lips, and then smiled. “I haven’t been able to get rid of him since.”

  “How long have you been able to do this?” Luke asked, gently moving our entwined fingers in a circle.

  “Since I was twelve.” I nodded at him. We were getting to the part that I never expressed. Garvin had prodded occasionally over the years, but I would never talk about this part of my past with him. “Something in me snapped.” Luke cocked his head, puzzled. “Like a rubber band pulled too tight. It broke whatever contained my ability. There was no mad rush of ability or anything, but my eyes …”

  “Your eyes are very beautiful. A blue like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Very distinctive,” he responded, smiling encouragingly.

  “Yeah, my eyes weren’t blue, they were brown. A dark, muddy brown. Until that day, that day they turned blue.” I lowered my eyes again. “A few days later, I cast my first illusion.”

  “You say contained your ability? Like it was done intentionally?” Luke questioned, his detective nature coming to the forefront.

  “I don’t know that for sure,” I backtracked. My suspicions had been growing over the years about that last night with my mother. I wondered if she had done something to us that night, to protect us in a way. “It just felt like something had broken loose inside of me ... allowed to be. Like something that was missing was found.”

  “What about your family?” He looked away and back to me. “I tried to dig up as much as I could about you. Child records are sealed, but I know you were abandoned at the age of six at an orphanage in Florida.
You bounced around foster care for six years, and then when you were twelve you disappeared. You didn’t show back up, until a few years ago.”

  I nodded, figuring as much. He had access to a great deal of information; information I could use to help me find my sisters, and maybe even my mother.

  “My mother abandoned us when I was six.” I swallowed. “Abandoned, saved. I’m not sure why she did it, but she left Kincaid in New Mexico and me in Florida. I have no idea what happened to her and Quinn after that.”

  “So there were two more of you? Sisters?” The skin around his eyes tightened as he looked at me.

  “Yes.”

  “And she left all of you? What about your father?” I could see his anger building. A common reaction to the idea of children being abandoned; a feeling I had experienced for years in the foster system and on the streets, but being haunted by my mother’s desperate pleas for forgiveness tended to override the bitterness.

  “Again, I’m not sure if she has Quinn, or if she was left somewhere too.” My smile was painful. “I believe she was trying to protect us. I truly do. I’ve wondered if she was bipolar or schizophrenic, but when you can cast illusions the options become so much broader.” I watched the awareness dawn in his eyes when I said that, and he leaned back.

  “You haven’t mentioned your father,” he observed quietly. My head bobbed, as I contemplated what I was about to say. It was one thing to think it, but another entirely to admit aloud to someone that you believe your mother abandoned you to protect you from your father.

  “He wasn’t there the night she took us away. She said we were going to meet him, but I knew it was a lie.” I looked at him, my eyes burning. I bit my lip before continuing. “There was something about the three of us that made her wary of him. She only wanted to protect us, and I think she was protecting us from him.” The words shuddered out of me for the first time and they felt true. It had taken me years to understand how difficult it must have been for our mother to separate us, to place our lives above our happiness.