“Chlo?” she whispered.
“I'm fine.”
“Are you—”
“I said I'm fine.” Her voice cracked. “I can't—not now. Can we just . . . not now?”
Miranda couldn't fight the pleading in her friend's voice. “Okay. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
Quiet settled in for the remaining few hours of darkness, and Miranda was able to get a little sleep, unmarred by any more of Chloe's nightmares. When she awoke in the gray light of dawn, she could hear the patter of raindrops outside, and voices downstairs. Chloe's bed was empty.
When Miranda came downstairs, she found her friend in the kitchen icing a pan of warm cinnamon rolls while her aunt checked on a breakfast casserole in the oven.
“Morning,” Chloe said.
“Morning.” Miranda knew the worry showed on her face, but Chloe shot her a pleading look and mouthed, “Later.” When Miranda raised her eyebrows expectantly, Chloe added, “Please?”
Miranda nodded reluctantly and grabbed a knife to finish cutting up a pile of fruit.
Christmas Day was a festive, but laid-back affair, and they all tried to forget about nightmares and visions for a while. Wren and her mom, and Miranda's parents all showed up for brunch and they exchanged white elephant gifts and had a generally wonderful time. Every now and then, Chloe would get a distant look in her eyes, but when she'd spy Miranda watching her, she'd paste on a smile and try to divert attention to someone—anyone—else.
“Is everything okay?” Maia whispered when they ran into each other in the hall, away from the others.
All Miranda could say was that she didn't know.
Eventually, the others left, stomachs full, sleepy-eyed, and ready for naps.
“We'll see you at home, right?” Miranda's father asked her.
“I promise,” she replied, unable to deny him. “I just need to talk to Chloe about some stuff first.”
Maia reluctantly went with Miranda’s parents, wide-eyed and curious, but unwilling to intrude into what even she could tell was a tension-filled situation. Miranda encouraged her with a thankful look and tried to wordlessly convey to her cousin that she’d fill her in later.
The two of them retreated to Chloe's room, and faced each other cross-legged on the bed as Chloe shared the details of her vision, and the nightmares she'd had the night before. Her hands trembled, and at one point, tears filled her eyes, but she waved off Miranda's efforts to comfort her.
“I just need to get it out,” Chloe said. “Then we can figure out how to deal with it.”
Miranda nodded and took copious notes, scrawling in her notebook as Chloe spoke.
“It wouldn't have been so bad if I wasn't in the middle of it,” she admitted. “It was overwhelming, you know? Terrifying. And Ethan—” Her voice broke, and Miranda wrapped her in a hug.
“It's okay,” she murmured, waiting for Chloe to regain control.
“The vision started like all the rest,” she said quietly. “The clearing and the fighting and the column of black smoke. I could almost smell the trees and feel the—” She touched her arm, remembering the sharp pain of a rock hitting her elbow. “It was like I was really there.”
She paused, but Miranda didn't interrupt.
“I saw Wren and Beck . . . Maia, too, in the distance,” she said, caught up in the memory. “And for the first time I recognized some of the people we were fighting. People from town. The shop teacher from school. That woman who works at the coffee shop. Just regular people, you know?”
They sat back down on the bed, and Miranda took her hand, squeezing it gently.
“And then . . . and then it was gone. And I—” Her voice caught. “It was so dark. And I couldn't breathe. And then I saw Ethan.”
“Was he fighting, too?”
Chloe swallowed down tears and shook her head. “No. I didn't see him fighting. I didn't see him doing anything, really. It was just—it was dark, so dark. And Ethan was—I don't know how to explain it other than to say he was floating in the darkness. His eyes were black. His whole body—the darkness swirled around him, in and out of him. And then . . .”
“Then what?” Miranda prompted.
Chloe didn't even try to stop the tears trickling down her cheeks. “Then he closed his eyes and I knew—I just knew—he was gone. He was d—” She broke down into sobs again and Miranda pulled her close.
“What am I going to do?” she asked through her tears. “I have to stop this. I have to save him.”
“You will.”
“He can't go with us,” she said, pulling back from the hug as her fists tightened on Miranda's wrists. “He needs to stay away—far away from all of this.”
“You need to talk to him,” Miranda said.
“I know.” She swallowed and sat up wiping away her tears. “But what if I can't convince him?”
“You will,” Miranda said firmly. “Just be honest with him.”
Chloe nodded and glanced at the window. “But what if he doesn't listen?”
Miranda took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Then we'll figure something out.”
“I can't let it happen,” Chloe said quietly. “I can't.”
“You won't.”
“It'd help if I could get more out of the visions,” Chloe said, her teeth grinding in frustration. “If I could keep from getting so caught up so I can see more clearly. Look for clues or something.” She growled. “It's so frustrating!”
Miranda grabbed her notebook. “Professor Kennedy said there may be a way, remember?” She flipped through the pages as she paced around the bedroom, years of habit enabling her to avoid furniture without looking. “Yes. Crap, I did find something, and I can't believe I forgot about it.”
“Well, we have had kind of a lot going on lately,” Chloe said wryly.
Miranda snorted in agreement and ran her finger down an entry. “Here it is. Looks like it was written in the early 1900s: A Seer can easily be drawn into the vision, so much so that it can become difficult to discern possibility from reality.”
“That's putting it mildly,” Chloe muttered.
“It is essential, therefore, to maintain distance. To hold fast to reality and force oneself to withdraw from the observed events, positioning oneself outside the realm of influence. This can be accomplished through a combination of self-discipline and meditation, but is only possible through studied practice and effort.”
“Well, that's helpful,” Chloe said glumly.
“It's a place to start, at least,” Miranda replied. “Sounds like it's a mind over matter kind of thing. Except, you know, without the matter part.”
Chloe glared at her. “Right.”
“It'll take practice,” Miranda said, unhappy to see her friend so discouraged. “You can do it. I'll help you.”
“How?”
“Self-discipline and meditation,” she quoted. “It sounds like it's a matter of recognizing what's happening quickly enough that you don't get swept up in it. Like realizing you're in a dream, maybe? You feel the window calling, or a vision coming on, so you have to learn how to hold on to that.”
“Easier said than done.” Chloe didn't seem convinced.
“You can do it,” Miranda said firmly. “You have to.”
After a moment, Chloe nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Miranda's phone buzzed and she looked at the screen with a grimace. “I have to go and spend time with my family.”
Chloe's lips lifted in a small smile. “Well, it is Christmas.”
“The forces of evil don't care!” Miranda replied, evoking a laugh, which she was so grateful for. She hated seeing Chloe so vulnerable and hopeless.
“We'll figure this out,” she said. “And don't worry about Ethan. He'll listen to you. You did save his life, after all.”
“Somehow, I'm not sure it'll be that easy,” Chloe replied.
“Then we'll tie him up and lock him in the attic.” Miranda shrugged.
Chloe laug
hed. “Might need to get Beck to help us with that one.”
“Hey, I'm stronger than I look!”
Chloe held up her hands. “Sorry.”
“You should be.”
“Hey, M?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” They both took deep breaths and Chloe actually looked a little relieved.
But as Miranda made her way out of the house and got into her car, she took a moment to breathe deeply and consider all that Chloe had told her. She had no idea what the visions meant, but she did know it wasn't good. And if the journal was right, the increased frequency of the visions meant whatever was coming, was coming fast.
She could only pray that they'd be ready.
Later that day, Aunt Cara slammed her book shut and dropped it on the floor next to the couch.
“Okay, that's it!” She sat up and looked Chloe in the eye. “I was trying not to push, but something's eating you up and I think you need to tell someone.”
Chloe thought she was all cried out, but to her surprise, her eyes filled with tears.
Aunt Cara's gaze softened and she gathered her niece into her arms. “Oh, now. Hush, sweetie. It'll be okay. We'll figure it out.”
Chloe sobbed, unable to speak for a few minutes. Her aunt rubbed her back, murmuring comforting words and letting her cry. When her tears slowed, she sat back and took the tissue Aunt Cara offered. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose before taking a deep breath and meeting her aunt's patient gaze.
“Is this about the visions you asked about?” Aunt Cara asked. “This Seer and Order your mom talked about?”
Chloe nodded. “It's a long story.”
“I have all the time in the world.”
Chloe let it all out, told her aunt about the visions, the window, the journal . . . everything that had happened over the past few months. Aunt Cara's fingers clenched in the afghan across her knees when Chloe spoke of the man who'd attacked Wren and the fight with Beck's mother—the riots and violence—the creature of darkness and smoke.
“I can't believe you kept all of this from me,” she said, but there was no anger in her voice. Just a kind of weary resignation.
“I'm sorry,” Chloe said. “I was trying to protect you, I guess? I didn't want you to worry.”
“It's my job to worry about you,” Aunt Cara said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You're so much like your mother. Taking the weight of the world on your shoulders.” She shook her head.
“I don't think I have a choice.”
“Of course you have a choice!” Her aunt was indignant. “But you also have a conscience, and you can't turn your back on someone who needs help. And from the sound of all this, there are a lot of people who need your help.”
Chloe took a deep breath, staring into the cold fireplace. “I thought you'd try to talk me out of it.”
Aunt Cara snorted. “Would it do any good?”
“No.” After a long moment, she looked up at her aunt, and only then did the older woman speak.
“I'm not going to say I like it,” she said. “Every fiber of my being is crying out for me to grab you and run. Somewhere far away from all of this. But—” She looked away, blinking away tears.
“But what?”
Instead of replying, Aunt Cara stood and walked to the hall closet. She opened the door and fumbled through the items on the top shelf, pulling out a small cardboard shoebox. She brought it back to the sofa and sat with the box perched on her lap.
“There's something you should know,” she said. “About your mother.”
Chloe wasn't certain what she'd expected, but it certainly wasn't that. “What is it?”
Her aunt brushed a hand over the box, and Chloe could see her hand was trembling. “Aunt Cara?”
“I'm sorry. It's just—this isn't easy.”
Chloe reached out and took her hand. “Just tell me, please?”
Aunt Cara nodded, and finally looked up to meet her gaze. “I lied to you.”
Chloe froze. “About what?”
She sighed. “About everything, apparently.”
“I don't—what do you mean?”
Her aunt considered words carefully, lips pursed for a moment before she spoke. “You thought your mom died when you were a baby.” Aunt Cara looked down again, focused on the box. “She didn't.”
“What?” Chloe couldn't understand what she was hearing. She snatched her hand away from her aunt and cradled it against her chest as if she'd been burned.
“Your mother died when you were five years old.” Her aunt met her gaze, eyes shining with tears.
“But—” Chloe could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her blood surging. “That can't be right.”
“It is, baby. I'm sorry.”
This didn't make any sense. “But if she was alive. Why was I—Where was she?” Chloe shot up from the sofa, needing to move, the pieces falling into place. “She . . . she didn't want me?”
“No!” Aunt Cara stood as well, gripping the box tightly. “No, you can't think that. She loved you. You have to believe that!”
“Oh, I have to, do I?” Chloe spat. “You've lied to me my whole life and now I'm supposed to believe what you say?”
Her aunt sank back down to the sofa and Chloe felt a twinge of guilt.
“What happened?” she asked. “Please, tell me.”
Aunt Cara wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “Our parents—your grandparents—sent her away. To a hospital.”
“What? Where? Was she sick?” Chloe shook her head. “Why wouldn't you tell me if she was s—”
All of the sudden, it did make sense. Horrible, terrible sense.
“What kind of hospital?” she asked, choking on unshed tears.
“I think you know,” Aunt Cara replied.
Chloe stumbled back to the sofa and sat down, stunned.
“Your mom had always been sensitive, like you,” her aunt said. “Feelings about things, instinct, that kind of thing. Nothing too unusual. That changed when she got pregnant.”
Chloe couldn't even speak. She just waited, her heart in her throat.
“She started having visions—dark things she wouldn't really talk about. She'd say she needed to protect you. That she had to take you away. That the darkness was coming. Our parents didn't take it well.”
Chloe swallowed thickly. “They thought she was insane.”
“I tried to change their minds,” Aunt Cara said. “Fought them like crazy, but I couldn't stop it. And they had her committed. All I could do was offer to take you.” Tears flowed down her cheeks, unchecked. “They didn't fight me on it, as long as I kept the truth from you. And Therese—” She broke down, sobbing, and Chloe's pity won over anger. She moved closer to her aunt and wrapped her arms around her.
“I went to see her,” Aunt Cara said. “I brought you with me. You were a week old. She was so happy. She held you and sang to you and for a moment, I thought, it'd be okay. I'd keep trying to get her released, and in the meantime, I'd make sure she saw you as often as possible. I thought I could keep it from your grandparents. I thought—” She shook her head.
“But Therese said no. She said she didn't want you to see her in that place, that it would be bad for you.” Aunt Cara looked away into the distance, lost in thought. “Now, I wonder if she knew something I didn't. But then . . . then I argued against it. Tried to convince her that we could make it work.
“Therese wouldn't hear of it. She said if I tried to visit, she would refuse. She held fast to that. I couldn't get in after that.” Her aunt let out a heavy breath. “And then she died. Doctors said it was an aneurysm. There was nothing they could do.” Aunt Cara shook a little, as if coming back to the present. “Your grandparents died in the accident not long after, and maybe I should have told you the truth then, but . . .“ She shrugged. “It was cowardly, maybe. But you were so young, and I thought it would hurt you more than it would help. And later . . .“ Aunt Cara’s voice faded away,
but Chloe knew what she didn’t say. The more time that went by, the more difficult it would have been to reveal the truth.
Chloe shuddered, and realized she was sobbing. It took her a long moment to get control of her emotions enough to ask, “So why tell me now?”
Her aunt ran her fingers over the box on her lap. “Because of this.” She opened it and pulled out an envelope.
“That time I visited your mother, she was saying some crazy things,” Aunt Cara said. “For the first time, I wondered if maybe our parents were right. Maybe—” She shook her head. “Therese said the darkness would come for you and that's when she gave me the message about the Order.” She held out the envelope. “She also gave me this.”
Chloe took it with trembling fingers, but her aunt didn't let go.
“She told me a time would come when we'd sit before an empty fireplace, and you'd tell me the one you love is fated to die,” Aunt Cara whispered. “She said when that happened, I was to give you this. I thought—I don't know what I thought, to be honest. There were times I'd come across the letter and almost throw it away, but I held onto it, for some reason.” She let go of the letter, and Chloe held it gently with both hands.
“Did you read it?” she asked.
Her aunt shook her head. “It wasn't meant for me.” Aunt Cara stood and bent to kiss the top of Chloe's head before walking into the kitchen to leave her alone.
With trembling fingers Chloe turned the envelope over and slid a finger along the flap. Inside was a single sheet of lined paper, yellowed with age. She unfolded it carefully, and began to read.
Dear Chloe,
If you're reading this letter, your aunt has followed my instructions. Which is amazing in itself, because she rarely does what I say, even though I'm usually right.
Chloe smiled.
First, I ask that you not hold anything against Cara. The secrets she kept were mine, and she did her best to respect my wishes. She loves you as much as I do, so you can't fault her for that. Even your grandparents only did what they thought was best. I can't find it in myself to be angry at them, even though I'm in this horrible place.
Super Natural: The New Super Humans, Book Three Page 4