by Dermot Davis
“We don’t need no stinking butter,” Fiona joked.
“Don’t you go mess with the Pacific Palisades gangsta rappers, y’all,” Andrew said laughing.
“We might look harmless but we’re tough sonsa breeches, mofo’s,” Fiona said and they both laughed even more.
“We’re pathetic, you know that, right?” Andrew said, tears rolling down his eyes.
“Oh, yeah, baby,” Fiona said as she parked the car in the diner parking lot. “Let’s lock and load.”
“You’re a keeper, you know that, girl?” Andrew said, looking at her adoringly.
“That’s coz we’re a team,” Fiona said, looking lovingly into his eyes. “We’re the A-team.”
“That’s my girl,” he said and pulled her face to his for a sweet and tender, lingering kiss.
Conscious of being recorded on camera when he entered the diner, Andrew tilted his head towards the floor. “Where’s that ugly baseball cap you used to wear all the time?” Fiona asked.
“It wasn’t ugly,” Andrew said as they slid into a red vinyl booth. “That was one of the few things my dad ever gave to me.”
“Oh,” Fiona said, regretting her accusation.
“Yeah, it was pretty ugly,” Andrew admitted. “I think I lost it in the accident.”
“How are you guys doing tonight?” the chirpy young waitress asked as she presented them with menus.
“Good, thank you,” Fiona answered. “Can you give us a few minutes?”
“Sure thing,” the waitress said, returning to the kitchen.
As Andrew and Fiona ate in silence, they looked at each other as if something very major between them had changed. They felt closer to each other and Andrew wondered why. Even though it seemed like it happened ages ago, was it a delayed bonding of the blood ritual and the soul mate ceremony thing? Was it their forced absence from each other? Or was it because the involuntary intrusion of the outside world had caused them to grow up a little and take themselves and each other more seriously?
“You could crash at the guest house until you decide when you want to give yourself up,” Fiona suggested, her mouth still chewing her food.
“Till I decide to give myself up?” Andrew repeated, smiling.
“As long as you don’t keep any lights on at night, my dad would never notice. The cops wouldn’t find you there because even if they did show up, my dad would never let them past the front gate,” Fiona continued.
“Why don’t we stick to plan A and hit the road? It’s sooner than expected but—”
“I’m not hitting the road with an escaped convict,” Fiona interrupted. “Are you absolutely crazy?”
“Can you shout that any louder? I don’t think the staff in the kitchen heard you,” Andrew said, looking around to see who might be within earshot.
“Don’t be so paranoid. Like anyone cares,” Fiona said, signaling the waitress for more coffee.
“They’re going to slap on more years for my…” Andrew said and stopped when the waitress came to refill both their cups. “I’ll get another few years for my escape,” Andrew continued in a hushed tone as she left.
“I’ll teach you to astral travel,” Fiona said casually. “We don’t care about no barricades,” she rapped.
“Can you be serious for a minute?” Andrew asked, looking like he was getting annoyed. “I don’t know what to think about all that woo-woo stuff,” he said sullenly.
"What?" Fiona asked, surprised by his change of mood.
“Visiting me at night like you’re a ghost and all that black magic, moonchild stuff… it’s beginning to freak me out, to be honest.”
“I don’t blame you,” Fiona nodding her head in understanding. “I should have told you all this up front…” she said and paused. “Probably would have been the proper thing to do.”
“Why didn’t you?” Andrew asked.
“Because I liked you too much,” she said, as if remembering her thought process back then. “I wouldn’t have been able to bear it if you looked at me like I was some kind of deranged loony-tune, that’s why,” she said.
“What, you mean, look at you like this?” Andrew asked as he donned a comical facial expression.
“Yeah, just like that,” Fiona said, grinning. “You look totally hideous, by the way.”
“That’s the look I was going for,” Andrew said.
“I should have done us both a favor and told you straight out,” Fiona said seriously.
“You don’t really mean that, do you?” Andrew asked, feeling hurt.
“No, I don’t,” Fiona finally agreed. “I wouldn’t give up what we have for the world.”
“Me neither,” Andrew said, feeling relieved and smiling warmly.
“So, what do we do now, Andrew Cox?” Fiona asked, pushing her plate away.
“I really don’t want to go back to that place,” Andrew said, terror making his body feel cold.
“My father knows people…” Fiona said and then stopped. “No, forget about that.”
“Your father knows people in the law?” Andrew asked.
“I can’t get my father involved in this,” Fiona said, regretting that she even mentioned him. “Besides, he totally doesn’t like you,” she then said. “I should say that he doesn’t know you, obviously, so it’s not personal. He doesn’t like anybody that I get involved with.”
“Who have you been involved with?” Andrew asked with alarm.
“Just you,” Fiona answered. “He doesn’t like anybody that I get involved with: you,” she then said to clarify.
“Why not? It’s not like you’re a little girl and too young to date or something; I mean, he wants to lock you up in the house till you’re an old maid or something, what is his problem?” Andrew asked.
“He thinks that maybe I might transfer my gifts to you or whomever I might get involved with, I’m not really sure,” Fiona answered uncertainly.
“Is that possible? That you could, that that could happen? Like they could rub off or something?” Andrew asked, clearly confused.
“I don’t know, Andrew,” Fiona said, sounding annoyed but not necessarily with him.
“So, when exactly is he going to leave you alone and let you live your own life? What needs to happen for that to happen?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Fiona answered, looking like she wanted to get up and run away.
“You do know,” Andrew insisted. “You must know; you’ve had years and years to think about this, Fiona. I don’t believe that you don’t know; you must have some idea, come on!”
“If I transferred my gifts over to him, then, then he would leave me alone,” Fiona said and her whole body relaxed like she had just answered the sixty-four-million-dollar question.
“So?” Andrew asked, as if she just found the entire solution to her problem. “Why don’t you? Why haven’t you? You want to keep them for yourself?”
“First of all, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fiona said, feeling like she was being pressed into a corner. “It’s not like I’ve got a twenty-dollar bill or something and all I have to do is hand it over to him. I have no idea what’s possible or how it would work or what the consequences would be. If it was possible and I went, sure, go ahead, take all my gifts, how would it be or what would I be like afterwards? Would I even survive or would I pass on like my mother?” Fiona said, sounding truly frightened and scared.
“I see,” Andrew said, softly.
“My mother died giving birth to me,” she said gravely. “I don’t even know who she was; my father never, ever talks about her.”
“Wow,” Andrew said, feeling sorry for pushing her.
“This is not like playing a parlor game with a Ouija board for fun or something, Andrew. The stuff my father is into is serious; it’s real and it’s big and people can get hurt; no, people can die. This is life and death and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you on our very first date, or before we bonded our love permanently, because, seriously, I re
ally should have,” Fiona said tearfully.
Shifting seats to go to her, Andrew put a comforting arm around her. “I’m so glad you didn’t,” he said softly. “I would have been so sad and lonely without you, without even knowing you. Going out with my buddies and getting trashed every night in bars and shit… what kind of life is that? What kind of person would I become?” he asked and held her tighter when he saw a heartening smile cross her face. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said reassuringly. “It’s going to all work out; everything’s going to be just fine.”
“My gifts did arrive," Fiona confessed quietly. "My third eye opened when I was maybe five years old.”
“Yes,” Andrew whispered, leaning closer to hear her more fully.
“I remember waking up and I was scared. I was seeing things, crazy, scary things and it wasn’t like in a dream or something; I was awake. I was totally awake and lucid. I went looking for my father and he wasn’t in his room and I was getting more and more terrified. I opened the door of his ritual room and there were all of these people; the people in his group and they were chanting and wearing masks… they were in a circle and very clearly, right above them, all over the room…” Fiona said with difficulty and stopped.
“It’s okay,” Andrew whispered. “You don’t—“
“All over the room were these horrible… they were like demons, you’ve seen pictures, right, of demons?”
“Yes.”
“They were real, Andrew. They were there, and entities, and all kinds of… I don’t know what, other realms, all of them stacked up upon one another, and they saw me, I saw them and they saw me, and I don’t think anybody in the room could see them, except for me, because if they did… I mean, the entities and demons looked evil, you know?”
“Yes.”
“And my father turned around and he looked at me like I was interfering, like I was ruining everything…”
“I know,” Andrew said softly as she wiped her eyes.
“So I told the angels to take my gifts away, I didn’t want them; I didn’t want to be seeing these… these horrible… things.”
“I understand,” Andrew said, gently brushing back her hair.
“My father is a good man; I do believe that my father is a good person, he is.”
“Of course.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s dealing with; if he could see what I could see…” Fiona said and stopped to blow her nose with a napkin. “I’m afraid that if he got more power… even if I left and I wasn’t in his life anymore…”
“I see,” Andrew said, holding back the first flippant joke that came into his mind about her father going to the dark side.
“I don’t think he could resist; he wouldn’t have enough will power to resist because it can be very tempting, you know?” Fiona asked.
“Yes,” Andrew answered automatically.
“Having the power to do things doesn’t mean that you should just do them and it can be very tempting, really, really tempting,” Fiona stressed.
“I know,” Andrew said encouragingly although he didn’t really know, at all.
Chapter 6
Waking up in the guest house of Fiona’s father’s estate, Andrew could now look around at the interior for the first time in proper light. Having crashed there the night before, in the darkness, he had no idea how swanky the place really was. For starters, the guest house itself was equally as large, if not larger, than the house that he had grown up in.
Furnished with classy antique furniture, the place had the air of what he imagined a rich estate in Cape Cod might look and feel like. Although he had never been to New England, he had seen pictures of the wealthy estates there.
The sheets felt so smooth, he wasn't sure if they were made of silk or something equally exotic and luxurious. If they were cotton, they must have a huge thread count. The four poster bed itself was so sturdy and ornate, he imagined that it could easily have belonged to royalty at some point. The sharp contrast of waking up in sublime luxury versus waking up in a bunk bed in prison was so disconcerting that he had a hard time reconciling it in his mind.
Expecting the door to burst open at any moment by a swat team or a squadron of police officers with guns drawn, upon waking he was almost too afraid to move or make even the slightest sound. He knew that Fiona would never turn him in but although he never met him, he could not count on the same treatment by her father. What a piece of work he seemed to be, he considered as he began to remember pieces of his conversation with Fiona.
What was all that talk about black magic rituals and Fiona being a moonchild? If her mother died giving birth to her, was it a natural death or was she sacrificed or something in order to do the black magic ritual thing successfully? What did it mean that Fiona was born to bring in “gifts” from the other side? She didn’t say the word satanic or cult but it sure did sound like that’s the kind of stuff that her father was into. It scared the bejeesus out of Andrew. What kind of person was her father?
Then there was the suggestion that Fiona’s gifts might rub off on whomever she was with? Was that why he had been having these weird déjà vu images pop into his mind? Were Fiona's powers rubbing off on him?
Having way more questions than answers, Andrew lay in bed and considered what his next step should be. Although he was terrified of going back to his prison cell, he wondered if he had any other choice? How long could he stay on the run and how would he even support himself? Would it be possible to move to a different state and completely change his identity and never get caught?
With each scenario he concocted in his head; working in a diner in the back woods of Oregon or someplace remote; moving from state to state and never living in one place for more than a few months and so on… he could not envision a life without Fiona.
Living in “freedom” without Fiona would be worse than being in a prison for the rest of his life. Yes, he may be “free” but it would be like living in a different kind of prison. Fiona had made it perfectly clear to him that she thought that he should turn himself in. If that’s what he needed to do to keep her in his life, then that was what he would do.
But first, he needed access to a computer and the internet. He had way too many questions about Fiona in his mind. If he didn’t get them resolved before he went back to his miserable bunk, he would never get them answered. A few hours on the internet should do it, he reckoned. What was a few more hours compared to the number of years he would now be spending in the nearest equivalent to hell that he could think of?
Finding a twenty-dollar bill left on the on the dresser by Fiona made his heart ache even more for the girl. It also raised some major concerns within him. The more he had gotten to know her, the more he worried that the little voice in his head that he had heard when he met her might have been correct. Forget it, she's out of your league, his little voice had said to himself, back then. She's too pretty for someone like you. She’s too good and pure for your tarnished soul and besides, fall for her and your heart will surely get broken.
Shaking his head of all doubt and self-loathing, Andrew slung himself out of the bed and dressed in the borrowed clothes that Fiona had left out for him. He didn’t want to know where she had gotten them; the thought of him wearing her father's clothes filled him with disgust. That guy seemed like a real freak of some kind… maybe even evil. He preferred to think that the clothes were part of the wardrobe that they kept for visiting guests, the same way that you might put on a robe that was provided when staying at a plush hotel.
What to do next? he wondered. He would make his way to the library on campus, he finally decided. Once there, he would not be disturbed and could stay on the computer for as long as he liked. He had a vague understanding that because a university is considered a private space, the regular police are not allowed to trespass without permission.
A short time later he was on campus. Because finals were over, the library was quiet and there was no possibility of bumping into anyone from a
ny of his classes. Scouring for books on the occult in the parapsychology section, he found a few that looked promising. Finding a seat by a window, he searched through the books and on the internet for any information he could find on the Order of the Wise Serpents, Moon children and the phenomenon of déjà vu.
Surprisingly, he could find very little hard information on any of the subjects upon which he had searched. He found nothing worthwhile about the secret group except a mention here and there. There was no explanation on the concept of a moonchild in the context that Fiona had described it.
Déjà vu was pretty much ridiculed as a function of extrasensory perception. As far as he could tell, the academics wrote it off as being some form of “false memory” or the like. All in all, searching for information had been a fruitless and unproductive use of his time.
Surprised that the hours had sped by, extremely tired and hungry, he finally decided to call it a day. He left the library with a strong appetite for a quarter pound burger and fries. As he walked down the library steps, the campus street lights flickered on. Turning right as he had habitually done in the past, Andrew stopped. He reminded himself that he wasn’t going the usual way home and so he paused to readjust. He reminded himself that he needed to reorient himself to find the nearest bus stop for his ride to the palisades.
Looking around, at his options for leaving the campus, he was unsure of which exit to take. He didn’t have his smart phone so he couldn’t look up the route nor the bus stop most proximate to him. His mind flushed with stories and notions of extrasensory perception, he decided that he would test his own abilities. Wouldn't it be something if could find the exact route by his intuition alone? Relaxing his mind, he allowed his body to simply walk where it so desired.
Trusting that he would somehow be led to the ideal route to get himself home, he found himself in an unfamiliar area of the campus. The sun had gone down and there were less people about than before. Was he being foolish and merely prolonging his already long and tiresome road home? A weathered sign pointing to various faculty buildings caught his attention. One of the buildings mentioned got his attention big time: The Parapsychology Lab.