Consequences (26 page)

I can’t make sense of what he is talking
about; and I can’t feel any other people on the boat for him to be
talking to. I am still bleary, but finally beginning to feel my
feet, although my brain is still too sodding slow to understand
what is happening. I know, even if only instinctually, that I need
to stay solid … something about the emotions flowing from Dimitris
tells me that my life depends on it. For some reason, I don’t think
I would succeed at shifting back to insubstantial anyway …
something is seriously wrong with my body … my control is
completely gone.

**~~**

I can still feel the anger on the other side
of the door, but can’t hear Dimitris’s voice any longer. Maybe he
was on the telephone, or the boat’s radio. As I lie still, trying
to convince myself that I imagined Dimitris speaking, I can’t shake
the feeling that I need to stay in my physical form for safety
reasons.

With a slight sigh of relief, I feel a
tingling sensation in my fingertips that turns into flames licking
at my palms. Lying there for what feels like hours, I wait, rather
impatiently, to regain some sense of power over my body. When I
finally sit up, my head starts to swim, so I quickly lie back down
again; this makes my stomach flip. The shades are still closed from
the morning I shut them so Dimitris could sleep. I have no idea how
much time has passed while I was debilitated; and not understanding
what happened to me, for who knows how long, frightens me.

As my fear turns into sobs, I remembering how
badly I’d prayed for tears to show Christopher that I was still
alive … Oh god, Christopher!

I close my eyes and focus on the wolf in my
mind’s eye. Searching, stretching out my thoughts as far as they
can go … nothing. I'm not even sure if I'm actually in the fog
where I can connect with her, my mind is refusing to focus and my
heart is racing at the memory of Christopher’s pain. Damn this
idiotic paradox, I need to relax and focus, so that I can find the
wolf and let Christopher know I’m okay; but I can’t calm down
enough to focus, because I can’t find the wolf to let Christopher
know I’m okay. Finally deciding to sit down, more to sulk than to
try and relax, I wait and hope that they will find me.

**~~**

I argue forever with myself over whether or
not they're coming back, giving up only when I feel someone trying
to shake me awake. I open my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief as
Dimitris’s face comes quickly into focus. I sit up slowly and find
that most of my spinning disorientation has disappeared. Dimitris
looks pale and disheveled as if he haven’t slept for days.

“Are you all right?” His voice cracks as he
speaks.

“I’m feeling better … I don’t know what
happened, how long have I been out?”

Dimitris averts his eyes as he speaks, “It’s
my fault … I didn’t know how you would react to the poison. I
wasn’t sure it would affect you at all. It’s supposed to work like
a drug on your kind … it was the first time I’d ever used it.”

“Poison?” I am slow on the understanding, but
something makes sense about my incoherence and feeling of being
drugged. “Why would you poison me?”

“Because, I knew they were coming. I found a
listening devise while you were sleeping that first day, and I
couldn’t allow them to harm you … I needed you indisposed, and set
solidly in this world.”

I still can’t understand what he is telling
me, “Why would you have poisons that could paralyze my kind … on
your boat?”

“All Seers have venom packs to use in case
one of you, who are able to hurt the living, was to become
dangerous.” He pulls a dart out of his belt: it is about three
inches long and has a red tuft at the top.

“Venom? I don’t remember you stabbing me with
that…” My brain must still be loopy, or I am in shock, because none
of what he is saying is making sense.

“Listen to me, Ellie … you have to
understand, because we are almost to bloody Sparta, and they will
be waiting. I stirred your hollandaise sauce with one of my darts …
at first I didn’t think the scorpion venom would work, and then I
was sure it had worked too well. I’ve been scared as hell that I’d
condemned you to a slow agonizing demise when you refused to wake
up for the past week.”

“A week?” Oh no, my god, Christopher!

“The Timoro keep coming to check up on us,
and I can’t avoid the council much longer. They are not happy about
missing the opportunity to catch Cassandra. Do you remember me
telling you that they only have use for those who can be
instrumental in their ultimate plans… such as Seers, and Timoro?
They’ve been drooling over the chance to control a precog for
centuries. The chance to take Cassandra was too important for them
to ignore; even though precogs are notoriously impossible to catch
… they are such fools.”

“Precog? Take Cassandra? Dimitris, did you
turn us in?” The betrayal pulls me away from my thoughts of
Christopher. “Where is Cass … did they hurt her?”

“No, they arrived too late after the Timoro,
who had been spying on us, told them the juicy news that one of the
strongest Precogs could be found in Sparta. Cassandra was nowhere
to be found … that was four days ago, about the time she was
supposed to meet you. She must have seen what was coming and ran,
or flew in your case, because the Symboulio brought their best
hunters and there was no sign of her. That’s why the Timoro have
been returning here to look in on you … they seem to think you can
tell them how to sneak up on Cassandra. I told them that you
wouldn’t have any sodding idea … because as far as I could tell, it
is bloody impossible to sneak up on someone that can see the
future! As long as you’re in your tangible form the Timoro can’t
hurt you. Although when we dock outside Gythio … the council will
be waiting, and they can most definitely hurt you. I don’t know
what to do, Ellie.”

“What if I change back now, and fly
away?”

“I’ve been able to keep the Timoro off the
boat for the most part; but if you were to look approximately
thirty feet off the aft, you’d see we are being watched very
carefully. I was thinking that if we kept you visible when we hit
land, the human council members wouldn’t dare murder you in front
of strangers … or at least that is what it would look like to any
bystanders: murder.”

“I think being ripped limb for limb would
constitute murder, no matter who was witnessing the act.”

“Indeed … Ellie, I’m so sorry.”

“Okay, well let’s prepare for what’s coming …
first, who will be meeting us?”

“To oversee the capture of Cassandra ... I
don’t know who they would still have on hand after the initial
mission failed. I’m pretty sure one of the elders will be meeting
with us, because the Timoro have to be answering to someone. My
best guess would be Esidor … he is particularly good at capturing
and dispatching Ho Thanatos. He’s a very old Seer, and is rumored
to fear death so much that he has invented a way of absorbing the
energy of dying ethereal creatures. Some say he’s over one hundred
years of age, but to look at him, you’d think he was in his sixties
… maybe there is something to the rumors after all. In any case,
with a capture or possible demise of someone as important and
powerful as Cassandra … Esidor would absolutely be involved.” I
feel and understand the depth of Dimitris’s fear as he speaks the
monster’s name; imagine using living creatures as a face lift. The
dark irony of my thoughts makes me giggle bitterly over my
situation … What in the hell am I going to do now?

**~~**

**~~**

Over the past two months, Christopher, Lune,
and Artemis have become more and more distant from the outside
world; preparing, I think, for the pending battle. On Monday, I
stopped by to find everyone was still in bed at three in the
afternoon. I thought maybe this was similar to the trance between
Artemis and Christopher that I’d witnessed in the past. Jokingly, I
tossed water over the group, but only got a response from the dogs
… I could see a distinct difference in the wax figure that used to
be my friend. As the week wore on, Christopher refused to get out
of bed, refused to eat, and wouldn’t drink anything.

Yesterday, not knowing what else to do, I
started an I.V.; he didn’t even flinch when I slid the needle into
his arm. I don’t know who to contact; and taking him to the
hospital, without having any idea what’s wrong, or who could be
causing this, seemed like a bad idea. I’ve learned enough about V
over the past two months, since Christopher finished telling me
about his time in Vegas, to understand that introducing V's
presence to a hospital, would be disastrous.

Now sitting vigil by Christopher’s bed, and
caring for the dogs, seems like my only course of action. Delirium
settled in on Christopher quicker than I expected, and it is
obvious that there is more going on than simple dehydration. While
I watch, he'll scream out for Ellie, and then Artemis will howl in
response. I’m starting to think I’m delirious, too, because I see
Artemis as if she is yelling at Christopher, instead of wailing
with him. She wouldn’t leave his side at first, but now she’s
becoming impatient with his depression: forcing her nose under his
hand, and trying to encourage a connection … but he won’t let her
in.

After being ignored yet again, she leaves the
room with her tail tucked between her legs, nudges Lune and then
goes to sit impatiently by the front door. I get up to let them
out; and when I brush by Lune, he rubs his muzzle across my
leg.

“I know, buddy … I know … but what am I
supposed to do? He’s given up … he’s dying.” I scratch behind his
ear and he presses his face harder into the side of my leg. He is
telling me not to give up, and that he has faith in my abilities …
or maybe he is saying it feels really good to have his ear
scratched. I’m never going to get used to this talking-to-animals
stuff.

Transfixed by the sight of watching the two
run out into the trees, I’m surprised by how attached to the
animals I’ve become. I have a family here, a brother here;
something that I don’t think Christopher or I have ever had … or at
least something we had resigned ourselves to living without. The
dogs just about run me over as they wrestle their way back through
the door. And, I can smell the change of the season on their coats.
The ozone scent is becoming stronger the closer we creep toward
winter.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts of the weather,
when I hear Christopher’s muffled screams come from his
bedroom.

“Ellie … wake up … please…” The tears, that
ran dry a couple days ago, are running again with rehydration. He
is staring at the ceiling, but there is no life behind the intense
gaze.

“Ann, you have to find out what happened to
her … please, Ann, one last request…” Christopher is still moaning,
but for the first time I understand what he is saying.

Ann … of course! Why didn’t I think of her
before; she might know what to do. Now, I just have to figure out
how to find her.

I have not only learned the taste of the
young one; I can see her trails stretching out across my mind.
Sweet, like the blood sucked hot from a living liver; she has
filled my brain with thoughts I haven’t enjoyed in a very long
time. The craving for her immature energy, tasted in the memory of
my last hunt, is only intensified by the ancient one’s bitter
flavoring. My dry mouth began to drool as the ancient's power
opened the door of my mind, and allowed the child to walk in.

For as far back as I can remember I’ve hated
the taste of the ancient one. Cassandra? Yes, I remember; I’ve
known her name forever … damn my sluggish thoughts. I must feed and
soon; I need to be in peak fighting condition to take on the
adolescent with the bright green aura. Cassandra will be easy
enough to destroy. She has never presented much of a problem before
now; always trapped in her mind, trying to avoid her visions,
grieving for eternity as if she was a banshee.

Running my hands down my arms, elbows crooked
under my chest, I grope with my fingertips at the lowest rib. I can
feel the sinewy line of my diaphragm. Tearing away at my abdomen, I
wish I could have removed my heart … just push my way up through
the flimsy lining separating my lungs and my innards.

“I am superior to those caustic insects that
imagine they rule this world. They are so weak … victims of their
lust, savaged by their pathetic bodies long before I would grant
them death. They try and thwart me at every opportunity … killing
my babies! What gives them the right? Does an ant presume to have
the right to hunt down and kill a human? No! No! No!” The screaming
hurts my throat, and ears.

The slick, gray rocks of my sanctuary hold
snatches of my tissue from years of tantrums. Purple, burnt red,
and putrid yellow globules of fat … flesh hangs in petrified
strands that looks as if the rocks are shedding skin like a
snake.

“I feel … I feel … Hungry!” Looking down at
my eternal companions, I watch their coiled bodies slithering
around one another, trying to escape the sound of my dry, aged
voice. As I reach out and grab one, the snake strikes in surprise.
I bite it in half; each one of its vertebrae crunch between my
teeth. Angered even further by my insatiable hunger, I throw the
still writhing body against the wall.

“This is entirely your fault!” The spiders
scurry from one massive web to another. “Now look at what you made
me do … consuming my friends.”

My hysterical laughter echoes off the stone
walls of my asylum … my prison. “A teacher being consumed by their
student! These masters of ancient fears taught me what shape to
take to cultivate terror in my prey… now in the end, even they fear
me."