Prodigal Son

by Debra Mullins

  Cara looked from one to the other. Their polite imitation of a family eating dinner together tore at her insides, ripping open old wounds that left her throbbing. Where were the good-natured debates, the ribbing, the laughter? This wasn’t a family. This was a ragtag bunch of survivors from a long-ago war. She didn’t know how long she could stand it. Didn’t they realize how lucky they were to have one another? Didn’t they know it could all be gone in the blink of an eye?

  Darius threw his taco down on the plate. “Cut it out,” he snapped. “You’re spoiling my appetite.”

  She jerked as she realized he was talking to her. The entire table grew silent, everyone looking from her to him with wariness and uncertainty. It ticked her off. Why did they stare at her as if she were the one who had done something wrong?

  Rafe put down the glass he had been holding. She could tell he was about to get up and charge to her rescue—heck, maybe even leap across the table at Darius for all she knew—but she caught his eye and shook her head. He hesitated, then sat back in his chair, folding his arms, his eyes mere slits as he stared at his brother. His entire posture said he was ready to defend her if necessary, and a trickle of warmth curled into her belly.

  His silent confidence gave her courage. She turned to Darius. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to point out the elephant in the room?”

  Tessa’s eyes widened, and Rafe glanced down, a grin tugging at his lips. His parents exchanged a look of surprise. Darius just scowled at her, then picked up his taco and took another bite, chewing and watching her with the intimidation of the lion she’d just compared him to.

  Well, she wasn’t about to be the gazelle.

  She pulled the napkin from her lap and dropped it on her plate. “Don’t try and glare your way out of this, Darius. I’m sorry you can feel my feelings, but at least they’re honest. And I can’t stop having them because you don’t like it.”

  “Try,” Darius bit out.

  “Watch how you talk to her,” Rafe growled.

  “Or what?” Darius challenged. “You’ll kick my ass?”

  “He won’t,” John Montana said. “But I might. You don’t speak to a guest in our home like that.”

  Darius opened his mouth as if to argue, then shut it, clenching his jaw. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  Maria pushed back her chair with a sigh. “Rafael, if you’re done I have some things from the vault to show you.”

  Darius clenched his hand into a fist but said nothing.

  Rafe stood up, setting his napkin beside his plate. “Cara, you coming?”

  His mother stopped short on her way out of the dining room. “Rafael, you know—”

  “I’m fine here,” Cara interrupted, not missing the relief that flickered across his mother’s face. She gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m going to have some more tacos.”

  “If you’re sure.” Rafe flicked a narrow-eyed look toward his brother.

  “I’m fine. You can tell me about it later.”

  “All right.” He came over and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “This won’t take long.”

  Her mouth tingled from his kiss as she watched him leave the room with his mother. Sneaky guy. Apparently he’d decided their earlier talk meant the door was still open to continue their affair. And he wasn’t wrong. She’d just wanted some time to get used to all this supernatural stuff, to decide that this Rafe, the real Rafe, was the guy she wanted as her lover. And from his new determination to fix things with his family, she knew he was.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake. Get a room already.” Darius shoved his plate aside and lurched awkwardly to his feet, reaching for the cane hooked over the arm of the chair.

  Tessa sent a teasing grin her way. “Nothing’s private here, remember?”

  Cara’s cheeks heated, and she darted a quick glance at Rafe’s father, who studiously built another taco and avoided her gaze.

  Darius stomped past her, the click of his cane on the hardwood floor echoing the heavy tread of his footsteps. Cara watched him, her heart going out to his struggle. How difficult it must have been for a man so obviously strong and healthy to have to learn to walk again.

  Darius spun around to face her, nearly upsetting his balance. “Don’t pity me,” he snarled, his blue eyes fierce. “Don’t you dare pity me.”

  “Pity and sympathy are two different things,” she returned. “I can’t help but feel for your situation. It can’t have been easy.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “He only started walking with the cane a few months ago,” Tessa said. “Before that he was in a wheelchair.”

  Darius shot his sister a hard look. “Can it, Tess.”

  “Hey.” John looked up. “I know this is hard for you, son, but you’ve got to keep hold of your temper.”

  “I’m in no mood for any fatherly advice tonight, Dad. After what you and Mom pulled, I think I have a right to be ticked off.”

  John pressed his lips together and rubbed the bridge of his nose, but remained silent.

  “You should have seen Darius right after the accident,” Tessa confided to Cara in a dramatic stage whisper. “He was horrible. But he’s been so much better over the past couple of years, at least until Rafe came home.”

  “But he didn’t come home.” Darius turned his narrow-eyed glare from his father to the two women. “Isn’t that right, Cara? He just stopped here to regroup after you two almost got killed by the bad guys. He has no intention of coming home.”

  “I don’t know what he intends,” Cara said. “I can’t read his mind. Or his emotions.”

  Darius jabbed a thumb at his chest. “Well, I can. And I can tell you that he has no intention of staying here. We’re just a rest stop on his latest mission.”

  “If you know so much about what he’s feeling,” Cara shot back, “then you know how torn up he is over what happened. He was trying to prove something and it backfired.”

  “He was being a hotshot as usual,” Darius snapped. “Trying to show off. And we all paid the price.”

  “He was young and stupid, and he knows it,” Cara replied. “He wants to make amends but he doesn’t know how. Some empath you are, if you can’t see that.”

  “Oh, I can see it. I know he regrets what happened. And yeah, he was young and an idiot. We all do stupid things at that age.”

  “You did,” John said.

  “But at least I knew to say I was sorry.” He looked from one to the other, his expression daring them to comment. “He never said he was sorry. Not to me.”

  He left the room, leaving awkward silence in his wake.

  Rafe’s father sighed. “Sorry about that, Cara. I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

  “I just don’t understand.” She tore her eyes from the empty doorway where Darius had disappeared. “I’m no empath, but I can tell clear as day that strong emotions are running here. Why aren’t you all trying to sort things out? Why did it take five years for Rafe to come back here before any of this was addressed?”

  John remained silent for a long moment, making her wonder if she had overstepped. Finally he said, “There’s a lot more going on here than a simple mistake. Rafe’s actions cost a man his life and challenged the very foundations of my family’s beliefs. Maria was very firm in her decision that Rafe wait to complete his Soul Circle. The ritual would give him even more power, and if he couldn’t control what he already had—” He pressed his lips together. “My wife and I disagreed on this point, but as apaiz nagusi—the high priestess—she has the last word in these matters. I’m the outsider here.” His lopsided grin echoed Rafe’s. “As are you.”

  “I get that, but did you explain that to Rafe?” Cara asked. “He seems to think you held him back as punishment.”

  “No, no, not at all! Maria just wanted to slow things down, to make sure Rafe really was ready.” His expression grew grim. “The Soul Circle is just a formality for most people, just a challenge to test the mastery of their gifts. But in Rafe’s case—”<
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  “The Hunter might take him over,” Tessa cut in, her expression uncharacteristically sober. “The essence that is Rafe would be gone, possibly for good.” She looked at her father. “Guess someone should have explained the danger.”

  “We didn’t have time. He left so abruptly.”

  “You have time now.” Cara sat back in her chair, regarding father and daughter. “I lost almost every member of my family over the years. Danny is all I have left, and if we can’t find him … if something happens to him—” She choked back the words before the tears could take hold and cleared her throat. “Sorry. I lost my cell phone earlier today, and I haven’t been able to call Danny. Not being able to contact him … It’s got me a little upset.”

  “That’s understandable,” Tessa said.

  Cara looked from daughter to father. “You all need to fix this. Rafe needs you. He’s been alone way too long, and stubbornness is no reason to lose the people you love.”

  John nodded. “I told my wife she should let Rafe try, that perhaps he needed the control of the Soul Circle to manage his abilities, to keep this from happening again. Maybe I should have argued harder, but she understands my children’s gifts far better than I do.”

  “Her father was a Hunter like Rafe,” Tessa added. “My dad figured she knew what she was doing.”

  John gave his daughter a look of mild annoyance. “It’s sometimes irritating to have a child who can read your thoughts.”

  “Apparently not all of them, or I would have honed in on the secrets you and Mom were keeping.”

  John blanched. Tessa put her hand to her mouth, regret flickering in her eyes.

  “I bet that was fun during the teenage years,” Cara said, trying to lighten the mood.

  John tried to smile. “Completely took away the intimidation factor.” He looked back at his daughter. “I’m so sorry we kept things from you, kitten. We were only trying to protect you.”

  “Oh, Daddy. I know you meant well.” Tessa got up and hugged him. “And you can be very intimidating, especially when you really are angry. You only have trouble when you’re bluffing.”

  Cara’s heart turned over at the easy affection between father and daughter. She’d had a taste of that with Donald, Danny’s father, but it had been taken away far too quickly. Far too abruptly.

  She got to her feet. Her emotions were running close to the surface today. Nearly dying obviously did that to a person. “Thank you for dinner,” she said, “but I should get to bed. It’s been a really long day.”

  “Of course.” John stood, his arm slipping around Tessa’s waist. “Do you remember the way? Tessa can show you.”

  “No, I’m fine. If you see Rafe, just let him know I went up.”

  “Sure thing,” John replied. “See you in the morning.”

  “Don’t worry, Cara.” Tessa’s face took on a faraway expression, and for a moment it seemed as if her eyes glowed. “Everything will work out for the best. The final battle is coming, and all will be resolved. For better or worse.” Her eyes closed, and she sagged in her father’s arms.

  Cara took a step forward. “Is she okay?”

  “Just a prediction. Happens all the time.” John watched as Tessa’s eyes fluttered open. “Good morning.”

  “Wow.” Tessa straightened, putting a hand to her temple. “That was a doozy.”

  “Are you all right?” Cara asked.

  “Fine. It happens.” Tessa gave a tight smile. “But maybe I’ll go meditate for a while.”

  “I’ll walk you there,” her father said.

  “Thanks. I don’t want to end up passed out in the yuccas again. Good night, Cara. Sleep well.” She headed out of the dining room, her father beside her with his arm around her shoulders.

  Cara watched them go, humbled by their love for each other. Maybe even envious. And more determined than ever that Rafe mend the rift with his family, before it was too late.

  * * *

  Rafe followed his mother to the staircase leading up to the third floor. She ascended ahead of him, her feet quick and sure. He followed more slowly. Memories assaulted him as he took hold of the smooth oak banister and began to climb, images from childhood and from the last time he had ascended these stairs. Tonight elegant light fixtures lit the way, but that day—that terrible, awful day—bright sunlight had streamed through the windows that stretched up toward the cathedral ceiling, false brightness illuminating a house heavy with grief. His stride faltered. A man had died that day, and Darius nearly so.

  His fault. All his fault.

  He struggled to breathe as he made himself continue to the top of the stairs, not from exertion but from the sheer bombardment of emotion that swamped him. All these years, he’d thought he was handling it. All this time, he’d thought he’d moved on. But the pressure in his chest and the lump in his throat told him he’d been fooling himself. The wound was as fresh today as it had been five years ago—perhaps more so from the thick scar tissue that had formed over it, and made worse by his parents’ deception.

  By the time he got to the third floor, it was all he could do to keep walking forward. His instincts screamed at him to go back the way he’d come, to get Cara and leave. What had he been thinking, coming back here? What had made him think he could be here, even for a minute, and have it be okay?

  But he knew he had to do this. Had to keep going, to make things right again. It was past time, and he wasn’t a kid anymore.

  He paused outside the door to the tenplu. Beyond the portal lay his family’s most sacred place, the consecrated circle where they all performed their energy rituals. He knew the layout by heart. As soon as he stepped through the door, the circle would stretch before him, five, maybe six feet from the door. To his left, an alarmed door that led to the rooftop garden where they grew flowers and herbs and recharged their focus stones beneath the blessed sunlight. And straight ahead, beyond the boundaries of the circle, was the vault.

  He hadn’t been allowed in the vault when he’d lived at home; he would have only been welcome there when he completed his Soul Circle at twenty-four. Since he’d left home at twenty-three, that day had never come. Frankly, after all that had happened, he was surprised his mother had summoned him to this place. He would have expected her to keep him far away from his family’s treasures.

  Gathering his courage, he opened the door and walked into the room, then stopped. When had they moved so much greenery into the tenplu? Planters ringed three of the four walls, all of them full of flowers bursting with color. His mother stood at a planter right near the door to the greenhouse, watering her favorite birds of paradise: tall, orange flowers that resembled open-beaked birds because of the way the sharp petals bloomed.

  Nostalgia gripped him by the throat. How many times had he seen her like this, puttering around the garden?

  “Give me a minute,” she said. “My babies were thirsty.”

  He nodded, unable to speak. What was he doing here, mere feet from the sacred place where he’d thought he would someday complete his Soul Circle? He wanted to leave, but he knew he would find no solutions that way. He had to stay here and confront what he had done—as did she. Only then did they have a chance at mending this horrible rift.

  At least, that was what Cara believed.

  Part of him doubted it could be done. There had been too much hurt on both sides. Surely the best thing was to stay apart. He actually took a step backward, and she jerked her gaze up to his, her eyes narrowing.

  “Don’t you even think of moving another step, Rafael Jude Montana.”

  He froze, the use of his full name as effective now as it had been when he was ten and had sneaked a lizard into Tessa’s room. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said.

  “That, young man, is not your decision.” She plunked down her watering can—pink with butterflies—and yanked at the chain around her neck, tugging a familiar pendant from beneath her pale blue shirt. The chain glittered reddish gold even in the artificial light, the setting anci
ent, the large crystal clear and deftly faceted as it settled against her chest. “I am the apaiz nagusi; I am in charge in this place.”

  He nodded his head. “Yes, Mama.”

  She came toward him. “Have you forgotten our ways already?”

  “Of course not. But I have questions.”

  “About the stone.”

  “About the stone. About Seers. About Atlantis.” He barely got the last word past his lips.

  “Yes.” His mother sighed and glanced down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I have something to show you.” She turned and walked through the circle of the tenplu, her focus stone glowing softly as she passed each of the markers that denoted the chakras. Halfway through the circle she stopped and looked back. “Are you coming?”

  He wanted to refuse, uncertain of his welcome. No matter his mother’s affection for him, the circle would not accept the unworthy, even if he was the son of the current priestess. That alone would assure the power contained therein would not kill him, but it could knock him unconscious for several hours. Still there was no defying his mother, not when she had that determined set to her mouth. Bracing himself, he stepped into the circle.

  His crystal heated against his skin—not a searing, get-thee-from-my-presence burn but the slow glow of an old friendship rekindled. He let out a measured breath. She gave a short nod and led the way through the circle to the other side of the room.

  His heart pounded as he followed, and he didn’t take a substantial breath until he crossed the boundary on the other side unscathed. With a look that clearly commanded him to follow, his mother led the way to the steel door in the middle of the wall—the vault.

  He had never been this close before. The reinforced portal had a hand plate next to it and some kind of peephole. She laid her hand on the plate, then leaned in to look through the peephole. A pale blue light shimmered across her eye, and small LED lights on both panels went from red to green. The locks on the door snicked open.

  High-tech biometrics. Probably one of Dad’s gadgets. As his mother pushed open the heavy door, he glanced down and saw an identical eye scanner and hand plate lower down, about four feet from the floor.