She turned back to him and gave his arm a tug. “Nothing. Let’s just be together.”
Placing her face in his free hand, Test leaned down and gently kissed Alyssa’s lips. With her eyes remaining closed, their lips parted slowly. Releasing his hand, she put her arm around his waist and the two of them walked peacefully through the trees.
****
After talking to his father the night before, Thad Johnston had resolved to himself that there was no one that could help him. Earlier in the day, he’d had the vision once more and it stirred even more anxiety within him that he couldn’t explain or understand. While experiencing the vision, this time, instead of focusing on the girl and the man, he focused more on the location. He saw a large, faded, dark green sign with dirty white letters that hung on the outside of a brick building.
For his entire life, his visions had only been about those close to him, or people that he regularly interacted with. Not only was this vision strange in that it was recurring, he honestly didn’t know either of the people within it. In his mind, he walked himself through his day. It was ridiculously routine; he woke up, took a shower, brushed his teeth, got into his car, and then stopped at Harry’s Donut shop on the way to work. Harry’s was a little dive of a shop that was set in a more destitute part of town, but they made the best cinnamon rolls in Kansas or Missouri. It wasn’t even really on his way to work, but the fifteen minute detour was well worth it. He rarely even told anyone about the place, feeling like he’d found gold and wanted to make sure that his treasure stayed hidden. Thad took a lot of pleasure in the little things.
As he drove his normal morning route, he paid close attention to everything, but nothing he saw had been in the vision. After driving for nearly an hour, he decided that he’d just retrace his steps backward, and if nothing else, he’d stop at Harry’s.
The return trip revealed nothing new, and he found himself gripping the fat brass handle on the front door to the donut shop. Upon opening the door, the smell of freshly brewed coffee entered his nose and provided a comfort to what had so far been a frustrating morning.
The lights inside were always dim, something that Thad liked about the place. He’d never been a fan of bright lights, and the dim lights mounted on the walls with nothing overhead provided a haven for those who felt the same. Though it was a small space, there were several booths on either side of the room along with four tables positioned in the center. The benches and chairs were covered with a dark red vinyl that had seen better days, some of them held together with bright silver duct tape. The floor was covered with old tile, every other one chipped in a corner.
Thad stepped up to the glass showcase at the back of the room, taking his place in line while noticing that only one cinnamon roll remained in the case. As childish as it was, a brief moment of panic came over him, fearful that one of the four people in front of him would take his prize.
The customer at the register handed the cashier her money and, after receiving change, turned and walked away. Thad glanced behind the glass case, thinking that maybe there was a fresh tray of rolls that they hadn’t put out yet, but there were no more except for the one. He backed out of line slightly, glancing at those in front of him, and the world stopped.
Standing at the register was a young woman with long black hair. He watched her intently, hoping for a look at her face. Suddenly the cashier, a white man in his mid-forties, raised his voice.
“Look, I’d like to help you out, but I just can’t be giving things away. Come back this afternoon and maybe you can have some of the left-overs.”
The young woman tucked her hair behind her ears and Thad let out an audible gasp. It was her; the girl from his vision.
“Please,” the girl asked. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow. Can’t I just have some bread or something?”
“Look, missy,” replied the cashier, “I’m trying to be nice here, but you’re holding up the line. I told ya, come back after lunch, okay?”
Thad stepped around the portly man that had been in front of him in line and walked to the young woman’s side. “Excuse me,” he said, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder. She turned towards him defensively and he quickly withdrew his hand. “Whoa there, I’m sorry.” Thad looked to the cashier. “I’d like to buy this young lady a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee.” He glanced to the young woman whose face had melted from one of anger to one of confusion. “Is that okay with you?” he asked.
The black haired woman nodded and replied meekly. “Yes, sir. That’d be great. Thank you.”
Thad handed the cashier the money and then watched as the last cinnamon roll was handed to the girl. She thanked him once more and then began to walk away.
“Excuse me, miss?” he said, hesitantly touching her elbow.
She turned back to him.
“Would you care to join me?” he asked, gesturing towards a booth.
She furrowed her brow, casting a suspicious look toward him.
“Please, it’s nothing like that. I just thought it’d be nice to have a conversation with someone for a change. I’m by myself too much.”
The genuine smile on his face made her feel at ease. She couldn’t understand it, but something about this man seemed familiar. Without saying anything, she walked to the booth and took a seat. Thad followed and sat opposite her.
Holding out his hand, he introduced himself. “Well, my name is Thadeus Johnston, but people just call me Thad.” He watched as she cocked her head at an angle in a curious way. Slowly, she lifted her hand from beneath the table and shook his hand. He noticed the needle marks in her arm.
“Nicole, Nicole Paxton,” she replied.
Trying hard not to show that he’d seen her marks, he answered politely. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Paxton.”
Cupping her hands together atop the table, she looked at him through bloodshot eyes. “It’s funny,” she began, stopping to take a sip of her coffee. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”
Thad grinned and took a sip of his own coffee. “Oh yeah, who’s that?”
“You wouldn’t be related to a Cliff Johnston, would you?”
Thad’s heart stopped. He tried to contain himself, the anxiety and excitement of the moment nearly overwhelming. He set his cup down softly on the table and stared blankly at the wall.
“You know,” he began, “the world is so big, yet every once in a while we all are reminded that it isn’t so big.”
Nicole placed her palms flat on the table, waiting tensely for him to answer her question. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.
He turned back to her and leaned over the table, looking the pale young girl square in the eyes. “My grandfather’s name was Clifford T. Johnston.”
He watched as her mood instantly changed and her hands began to tremble. Her jaws clenched tightly and she gripped the edge of the table, pulling herself out of the booth.
As she stood, Thad raised his hands. “Hold on, Nicole. What’s the matter? I’m sorry if I…”
“I don’t want this,” she replied, cutting him off abruptly, her index finger stabbing at him in the air. “I don’t know why you’re here or what you want, but I don’t want it.”
Thad sat stunned in his seat as she walked away.
****
Invisible to everyone in the room, Cliff stood behind Thad. His spirit was overwhelmed with emotion at the fact that he’d just discovered his grandson. He studied his every feature; the premature gray in his hair, the wide nose, his small frame; he was amazed that he hadn’t seen the resemblance sooner.
Thad stood from the booth, looking around the room and noticing the other patrons staring at him. Cliff reached out to him, wanting nothing more than to take his grandson in his arms and hold him, but his fingertips slipped through Thad’s shoulder as he began to walk towards the door. Cliff followed him to the car and placed himself into the back seat. He studied his grandson’s eyes in the rearview mirror, seeing more and more of himself in Thad the lo
nger he looked.
Thad pulled out of the parking space and turned into traffic, talking to himself in a frustrated tone.
“What the hell did I say?” he muttered.
Cliff leaned forward so as to hear him better.
“How did she know Grandpa Cliff?” He huffed in anger. “None of this makes sense.”
Cliff watched as Thad gripped the steering wheel more tightly. “Dad’s right, these damn visions ain’t a gift, they’re a damned curse!” he shouted, pounding a fist on the dash.
Cliff leaned back aghast. His grandson had the sight. He’d never once considered that his son or one of his descendants would inherit it, even though he knew that his own grandfather had passed it on to him.
The drive went quickly as Cliff’s mind raced to get a handle on his emotions and thoughts. Just as he’d begun to bring his focus around, Thad pulled into his apartment complex. Taking the turn at a high rate of speed, and ignoring the speed bump at the entrance, he flew into a parking stall. Cliff watched as he flung the door open mindlessly, slamming the edge into the car parked next to him. Thad didn’t even look. Instead, he slammed his car door shut and headed for the building.
Cliff followed from a short distance, admiring the complex, and was pleased that his grandson appeared to be doing okay for himself. He followed Thad into the building and waited by his side as he unlocked the first door on the left.
The two of them entered the room, and after two steps, Cliff froze. Before him was a small wall filled with photographs. In the center picture was a man and a woman, both appearing to be in their mid to late fifties.
“Good lord,” he whispered to himself. “It’s Elijah.”
The old man instantly broke down in tears. Seeing a picture of his son after all this time brought about emotions so strong that he couldn’t have even fathomed their existence. He stepped closer and admired what a handsome man he’d grown to be. Elijah’s skin was four shades lighter than his own, an obvious result since his mother had white supple skin. With her having been a red head, Cliff had tried to imagine what Elijah’s hair would look like, and he was somewhat surprised that it showed little if any of his ex-wife’s influence. Smiling happily next to his son in the photograph was a beautiful black woman with a smile that Cliff was sure could light up any room.
“Nice catch, boy,” Cliff muttered with a tearful chuckle.
The sound of a can being opened broke Cliff from his stupor. He glanced out into the small living room to see Thad leaning back on the sofa with a beer in his hand. He looked at the clock which told him it was only nine a.m., and shook his head in disapproval. A quick reflection on his alcoholic past made him hope that the gift wasn’t the only thing his grandson had inherited from him.
Cliff took a seat beside Thad on the couch. On the coffee table in front of the young man was a notebook with a bunch of handwriting. In a quick jolt, Thad lunged forward and picked up the notebook as well as a pen that had sat beside it, and began to write. When finished, he threw it back to the coffee table and tipped the beer can back sharply. Cliff watched as Thad took several large gulps, the can burping air, and then leaned forward to read what his grandson had written.
The lined paper had hand drawn bullet points, and next to each were barely legible words scribbled in black ink. Cliff read them slowly.
Old green sign with white lettering. Paint peeling.
Brick building
Dirty
Girl with long straight black hair, skinny and white
Indian
Blue and red light, one flash
Girl knows grandpa
WHAT THE HELL DOES THIS MEAN?????
Cliff recoiled in shock as he connected the dots. The girl with long straight black hair was Nicole. The brick building with the old green sign was her apartment building. The Indian, the blue and red flash; he knew immediately who the man in Thad’s vision was.
Ikuhabe was a formidable Reaper, but one that he’d thought Test had killed. He thought back to the moment when Anil was defeated and tried to remember Ikuhabe’s body being present. He could not. It was possible, he surmised, that there was yet another Native American Reaper, but something within told him that this enemy had returned. But for what? Why would they want Nicole? She was nothing more than a figment of Test’s past.
Suddenly, a sickening thought struck him.
“They’re trying to bring him out of hiding,” he muttered. “Dear Lord, they’re going to use her as bait.”
Cliff turned to his grandson and watched as he emptied the beer can, crushing it while still holding it to his lips as if to squeeze out every last drop. Though he wanted to introduce himself slowly, Cliff now found himself with an unknown time frame in which to save Nicole. Drugs had suddenly become the least of her concerns.
With as much energy as he could pull from the room, Cliff tried to force himself to be seen. The lines separating the world of the living from that of the shadow world began to blend, becoming more of a brush stroke instead of penciled scratches. As he strained, he watched Thad lean his head back and close his eyes.
“No!” he shouted.
Thad’s head snapped up. His head jerked to the front door, thinking that possibly he’d heard shouting from the hallway. A sudden chill came over him and he folded his arms across his chest.
Knowing that he’d gotten his grandson’s attention, he shouted once more.
“Thadeus!”
Thad jumped to his feet, eyes wide and heart thumping. He stepped sideways, away from the couch, and listened intently for the distant, disembodied voice.
Cliff stepped closer to him and reached out, touching Thad on the forearm.
“What the hell?” Thad screamed as he jumped backwards into the kitchen. He stared at the spot in front of the couch and, against the cream colored wall, could see a faint black shadow hovering beside the coffee table. He squinted and rubbed his eyes, not able to comprehend what it was that he was seeing.
Cliff desperately strained to become more solid, but there wasn’t enough energy to even sustain the shadowy state that he was currently in. He watched painfully as the brush strokes once again became pencil scratches, and the metaphoric wall separating the two worlds had returned.
Thad watched the shadow quickly fade from view. He wiped his brow, the fear of the moment causing sweat to trickle down into his eyes.
“Who’s there?” he asked, not sure if he wanted an actual reply.
Inaudibly, Cliff answered. “It’s me, son. Grandpa Cliff.”
Almost speaking over the old man’s words, Thad asked, “Who are you and what do you want?”
Knowing immediately what he had to do, Cliff replied to himself. “I’ll be back, boy. We’re gonna need some help.”
Chapter 7
Lauren sat quietly at the vanity in her bedroom, brushing her long brown hair in even strokes. In the soft light of the room, the vicious look that her eyes typically gave others had disappeared and been replaced with those of a sad young woman.
She was angry with herself for her behavior a short time ago and didn’t like the fact that she could be so inconsiderate. The truth was that she couldn’t control it; it was something she’d struggled with since before she’d even become a Shadow. She’d always found it a cruel twist of fate that not only was she forced to live in a youthful body for what seemed like an eternity, a body that never seemed to lose the hormonal fluctuations of the age, but that she was also given the ‘gift’ of being a Shadow, a byproduct of which was even less stability. She knew that most humans would say that they would love to be in her shoes, to be young forever, but they could never know the price she’d had to pay in pain and loneliness.
Setting her brush down on the antique, cherry-wood vanity, she slouched in her chair and began lightly drumming her fingers on the deep red wood. As she stared at her reflection with a blank expression, she became aware of a presence behind her in a corner of the room.
“Wou
ld you like to have a seat?” she asked, her fingers continuing their rhythm.
She felt whoever it was walk closer and, breaking her own rule, summoned the energy from within her to begin pulsing. The back side of her hands began to emit a peaceful blue glow, and from under her drumming fingers came a faint red. She looked to her left and watched as Maggie materialized beside her.
With one step to the side, Maggie sat slowly on the bed behind Lauren.
“Thank you,” she said lovingly.
Lauren grinned, staring at the woman awkwardly. “You’re welcome,” she replied in a submissive tone.
“You don’t like us, do you?” asked Maggie.
Lauren cocked her head and stared blankly at the brush on the vanity. “No, I actually do like you; very much as a matter of fact.” She glanced briefly to Maggie’s reflection in the mirror. “You remind me of my own mother.”
Maggie giggled. “That’s ironic, now isn’t it?”
Sitting up in her chair, Lauren asked. “How’s that?”
“Because you remind me a lot of my son.”
Lauren turned in her chair, her left arm resting on its back. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, soaking in the silence of the room.
“I know that none of this can be easy for you,” said Maggie, placing a hand gently on Lauren’s forearm. “I want you to know how much I appreciate you helping Test. I know he wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for you.”
Lauren stared at Maggie’s hand with tears welling in her eyes. As she looked up, a single tear fell softly down her cheek.
“Mrs. Davis,” began Lauren, but Maggie cut her short.
“Call me Maggie, hon.”
“Maggie—I don’t know if I have saved him.” Lauren’s tears began to flow more heavily. “Every moment of every day from here on out is going to be a struggle. Every day will be a test.”
Maggie pursed her lips for a moment and stared at the ceiling, searching for the right words. “Lauren, I can’t pretend to know the life that you’ve had to live, or my son’s for that matter. What I do know is that life, whether you’re a Shadow or not, is a struggle. Ultimately, the decision has to be made as to whether or not we are strong enough to live the life we’ve been given.
The Reverence of One: Book Three of the Shadow Series Page 5