Fly: A PORTAL Chronicles Novel (The PORTAL Chronicles) (25 page)

“So you really knew her,” I whispered, blinking furiously against the tears now forming in my eyes. I didn’t know what it was, but something about Victory put me at ease, allowing my feelings to freely flow.

“Yes, honey. Your mom, Clara, was my very best friend. In fact, it was here at Brightman that we met. It was all I could do not to talk about her with you on the plane that day, but I figured my time to speak freely would come, and today it has. So let’s talk. In true mother form, I even brought some hot chocolate,” Victory said, producing a white thermal box.

We settled onto the bench — me in the middle — and Victory served us cups of piping hot cocoa topped with a layer of mini marshmallows.

“This is divine!” I said upon taking my first sip.

Victory laughed. “Your mom loved it, too. It was the only recipe I wouldn’t share with her. My grandma swore me never to tell.” I smiled. With Victory’s easy charm and grace, I could see why Mom got along with her so well. “So let’s get right to it. Everett called this morning and told me all about last night. It sounds like you had an eventful evening.”

“That’s an understatement,” I replied, trying to stop the bloody images of Jenny from flashing through my head.

Victory seemed to read my mind. “I’m so sorry you witnessed what Hagen did. Though, I’m happy to tell you Jenny is fine. Thank goodness Rett’s father was there. He stopped the bleeding long enough to safely get Jenny to the hospital at PORTAL headquarters.”

“That’s great,” Everett exhaled, clearly relieved.

“Rett?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s what the family calls him,” Victory explained. “Everett was named after his dad’s father and his twin brother, Benjamin, was named after my father. We got so confused at family gatherings until their dad gave them nicknames to use when family was around, which stuck, so now Everett is Rett and Benjamin is Benson.”

I nudged Everett. “Now I know another one of your intimate details.” He smiled despite his blazing cheeks. I somehow felt satisfied watching him squirm. “He doesn’t like talking about himself, does he?” I asked Victory.

She smiled. “No. That’s for sure.”

He was beet red by now. “Enough about me! We’re here to talk about Sophie’s mom,” he complained, making us laugh.

“Well, Everett said he told you about Clara’s prophecy, so let’s start there,” Victory offered.

“Perfect! That’s where Everett and I left off last night. I asked him how Mom knew the prophecy was about me and he didn’t know.”

“Oh! That’s easy.” Victory smiled. “First off, your mom was pregnant with you when she received the word from Dio. As well, she told me that the very next day, your dad sang some song to her belly for the first time about a ‘precious poppet’ — the same wording Dio used. She said she about fell out of her chair because she hadn’t told him about the prophecy yet.”

“Yeah, I know the song well,” I said. “It’s been passed down through Dad’s family. And he still calls me that — his poppet,” I smiled, insanely missing Dad just then. “But the prophecy said ‘Sired by priest, mothered by prophet, divine wisdom I will give to the priest’s precious poppet.’ Mom was a prophet, but Dad isn’t a priest.”

“Oh, but he was,” Victory said, her eyes getting big. “Up until your mom passed away, your dad worked for PORTAL as a priest, someone chosen to serve Dio and help lead the people. Both your parents were very close to him.”

“I never knew that.”

“He quit shortly after your mom died because he was angry with Dio.”

“Really? Why?”

“He blamed Dio for your mom’s murder, thinking Dio had somehow allowed it or could have stopped it but didn’t.”

A shock went through me. It explained why Dad had never told me about PORTAL, and I suddenly wondered what he would think about my involvement now. What if he didn’t approve? But then, if he disapproved, why would he consent for me to be looked after by PORTAL agents at Brightman? Then something bigger computed.

“Wait! Did you say Mom was murdered?”

Victory looked to Everett. “You didn’t tell her?”

“No,” he answered sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I couldn’t bear to.”

“Tell me,” I demanded.

“What did your dad tell you about your mom’s death?” he asked.

“That she had some strange form of cancer,” I said, trying to keep my emotions at bay. “I don’t remember a lot, but Dad said the doctors were totally boggled. They had never seen anything like it, and before anyone could make sense of things… she was gone.” Everett’s face fell, sending dread surging through me. “What really happened?”

He said, “On paper, your mom died from a rare strain of leukemia that took her in the blink of an eye. In real life, she died from something altogether different — just another not-so-friendly reminder that your situation isn’t a joke or a game. Divaldo’s operatives are serious about taking you out, like they took your mom.”

“So Divaldo’s operatives killed her?” I clarified.

Everett nodded. My mind raced and I immediately wondered how they did it but couldn’t bring myself to ask.

“Do you remember anything from that day?” Victory asked.

“Yes. I was at the grocery store with Mom. We were about to check out when she unexpectedly picked me up and started running. She sat me on a bench outside the front door and wrapped her sweater around me. She told me she loved me, to be a good girl, and to stay there. She said she’d be right back before going in again, and then I never saw her again. Dad later told me she collapsed in the store and was taken to the hospital where they discovered her cancer, but that she died before anyone could make sense of things.”

Everett wiped a tear from my cheek. I hadn’t realized I was crying but, cocooned between two people I knew truly cared for me, I didn’t feel self-conscious in the least.

“Do you remember what happened to you after? Who took you home?” Victory asked.

“Yes. I obeyed Mom and sat on that bench for what seemed like hours until a pretty woman with long, brown hair came. I didn’t know her, but she claimed Mom was sick and that Dad had sent her to get me. She took me home and stayed with me there for three days until Dad came home.”

“Sophie, that was me,” Victory said, now crying too. “You were only four months old when Divaldo’s operatives attacked your family for the first time. Thankfully, your parents were prepared and you all escaped, marking the beginning of years of repeatedly uprooting when it seemed Divaldo was closing in. Then, that day at the grocery store, Divaldo’s men unexpectedly found you both and your mom placed you outside. Knowing they were after you and not her, she went back in to distract them. It’s a wonder they didn’t find you there, right under their noses. I was stunned to find you all alone in front of the store, so little on that bench.”

“But… I wasn’t alone,” I corrected. Victory frowned at me. “I was with that nice man, Ezrafil. The big black guy in the trench coat and tweed hat.” I smiled at the comforting memory of him. “I remember his face like it was yesterday. He sat with me the entire time and when you came, he assured me it was okay to go with you.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Victory placed a hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I always wondered how Divaldo’s men didn’t find you. Sophie, I don’t think your friend was from this realm. He was sent by Dio.”

When I thought about it, I couldn’t deny Victory’s claim. There had been something magical about Ezrafil. His stature and muscular build gave me the sense he was not one to be messed with, yet his bright smile and friendly eyes set against his rich, umber skin were totally disarming. He was a gentle, very beautiful giant.

“So Dio saved me, but what exactly happened to Mom?” I asked, ready to know.

“She led Divaldo’s operatives as far from you as she could until they trapped her in a back alley,” Victory explained. “PORTAL later confiscated security cameras that showed her fighting them off. She was very skilled and held her own for a long time, but was eventually overpowered and… killed.”

I was tempted to ask exactly what Divaldo’s henchmen did to Mom, but Victory’s grieved expression told me now was not the time. Victory then set her tear-pooled eyes on me. Captivated, I couldn’t look away.

“Your mom believed in the prophecy with all her heart and that you were the one who would save PORTAL from Divaldo’s control,” she said. “She loved you so much that she died for you — for her belief in your powers and Dio’s faithfulness to use you in amazing ways.”

Victory’s conviction made it clear she also believed the prophecy was about me. I wanted to agree, yet still had so many questions. “If the prophecy is about me, then what’s next?” I asked.

“You come to headquarters to meet Director Salvatore. He’d love to meet you. He’s looked forward to it for so long, but he wants to make sure it’s your choice. You have to come to him.”

“And what about these powers everyone keeps talking about?”

Victory nodded, reciting, “I will gift her, and lead her, and show her the way. A Seer, Heeder, Sayer will keep the enemy at bay.”

“What does that mean?”

“A Sayer is like your mom. A prophet,” she answered. “And while no one knows what a Seer or Heeder are, it’s part of the beauty of who Dio has made you to be. There is no mold. Your powers aren’t yet known or understood, meaning that when you strike, Divaldo won’t know what hit him.” She must have seen the confusion in my eyes, for she added, “But don’t worry about that now. When the time comes, Director Salvatore will awaken your gifts and Dio will show you the way.”

“How will he show me?”

“Just ask him to,” Victory shrugged with a smile, as if it were that easy. “You can communicate with Dio anywhere at any time just like you’re talking to me. It will be easier for you to hear him than most since you’re a Sayer, someone chosen to discern what he is saying in order to be his mouthpiece to the people.”

A high-pitched beeping went off then, making us all jump. Victory looked at her watch and touched a button to make it stop.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I have to get back. Things are understandably heated at PORTAL right now.” We all stood and Victory gave me a hug. “Call me with any more questions.”

“I will. Thanks for coming,” I said.

“It’s my utmost pleasure,” she said, tears again in her eyes. “I’ve been waiting so long for this day, and now you’re here and well on your way. Take some time to think things over. When you’re ready to meet Director Salvatore, Everett will take you.” She turned to Everett. “May I have a word with you?”

“Sure.”

As the two walked out of hearing range, I plopped back down on the bench. Hot tears steamed down my cold cheeks as I reviewed what I’d learned. New anger and grief festered within me as I thought of all the lies I’d been told, especially about now knowing Mom had been murdered. I missed her so much. I longed to hold her in my arms again, to hug her and bury my face in her long hair, to kiss her soft cheeks… to thank her for sacrificing her life for mine. This was grief as I knew it: a wound that never healed, reopening when I least expected it.

Two days ago, I would never have thought my world could be so upended, but I was glad I knew the truth. Mom had fought for me, for what she believed me to be. I owed it to her — to her memory — to at least give the whole Dio-thing a try.

“Dio?” I whispered, feeling self-conscious. “Victory told me I could talk to you. She said that Mom was close to you and that you spoke to her. She said you’d speak to me, too, but I don’t know if I believe her. I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around who you are, what you do, and if any of this is even real, so could you give me a sign? Please.”

Feeling foolish, I stopped, then noticing how quiet things were. I couldn’t hear the wind or the birds as I earlier had, or even Everett and Victory talking in the distance. Then suddenly, a great wave of snow blew up around me. I winced, guarding my face with my hands, before slowly opening my eyes. I watched in awe as the glittering snow fluttered around me in midair, never touching me. It was a magical sight, and when I closed my eyes again, I swore I could hear the tinkling of wind chimes and the voices of children laughing. I looked to where Everett and Victory stood. They were deep in conversation, totally oblivious to the tunnel of snow dancing around me.

And then I heard it. My father’s song. It echoed off the snowy walls, resounding again and again. Hearing his beautiful voice filled me with hope and peace, bringing tears to my eyes.

Poppet, my poppet, my sweet little poppet. You’ve stolen my heart and you’ve filled me with joy. I love you, my poppet, my sweet little poppet. Your Daddy adores you, and you he enjoys.

I listened to the song as it gave way to something grander and more magnificent: a different voice that sent prickling chills rushing through me.

“Beloved, believe that I am,” it breathed, flooding me with warmth and comforting me to the core. “Just believe.”

Chapter 31

At a Loss

My encounter with Dio — if that’s what it was — left me emphatically dazed. I tried explaining away what I’d experienced — a daydream or hallucination brought on my chronic stress and fatigue — but I couldn’t deny I felt different somehow. Lighter. Freer. More at peace. I’d never experienced anything like it but for fear that I truly was going crazy, as I’d wondered many times since arriving at Brightman, I kept it to myself.

Lost in my reflection, I blindly followed Everett across campus and remained in my stupor while he inspected my dorm. True to his word, Dr. Smitherson had repaired and replaced every last inch, and, besides the smell of fresh paint, it was as if the break-in had never happened. After approving my newly-installed front door, Everett explained that he had to attend a briefing at PORTAL headquarters. Mia would watch over me until he returned in the evening. Noticing something was off about me, it took some time to convince him I was fine before he abandoned me to my dreaded thoughts.

Finding I was destined to save PORTAL from the same evil force out to kill me was shocking enough, but discovering the truth behind Mom’s death and Dad’s secret vocation as a priest for PORTAL set my mind into a tailspin. Lacking the capacity to cope with such thoughts, I opted for a long shower to give my exhausted mind a much-needed break. Afterwards, I leisurely dried my long hair, painstakingly straightening sections with my round brush and blow-dryer. Still feeling avoidant, I then got dressed and hung up the clothes strewn about my closet — a task I normally disdained and procrastinated. Completing my homework killed a little more time, but none of these things lasted nearly long enough and I soon had run dry of distractions.