Legacy of a Dreamer (16 page)

“I’m just messing with you,” she giggled, nudging him with her shoulder. The action made her sore muscles ache, and she hissed as the small stab of sharp pain registered.

You okay?” He asked.
 

“I’m fine,” Chantal said. “I guess my body’s just not used to that much of a workout.”

Mathias didn’t respond, but he watched her intently.

“I’m not going to break,” she said. “It takes a lot to knock me down, Nick.”

Mathias looked frustrated yet somewhat amused. “We’re back to using Nick, huh?”

Chantal shrugged. “What can I say? I like the name. That is how I always referred to you in the private. Seemed appropriate.”

“I kind of like you using my given name.”

 
Chantal decided that hearing such uncertainty from a man like him seemed like an oxymoron. So much strength and vitality at his fingertips, his softer side made him that much more endearing to her. She was learning that changes in personality could happen suddenly if the situation called for it. She couldn’t help the memory that overtook her, but she pushed it aside once again.

“Mathias,” Chantal said.

“It’s a good name,” Mathias said. “Strong. Honorable.”

“What? You afraid I’m going to start seeing you as a Nancy boy if you keep showing me your softer side?”

“A what?” Mathias asked, one eyebrow quirked. Chantal laughed.

“Never mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to modern terminology.” Mathias shook his head in an exasperated motion.

“I don’t think I’ll get used to running for my life,” Chantal said before thinking. She didn’t mean to sober the conversation, but she had brought them back full circle. It couldn’t be ignored. Firming her resolve, she set her mind to figuring out the details. Better to be prepared next time. She knew, without a doubt there would be a next time, so she’d like to avoid walking into an emotional or physical ambush.

“Why were you sent to watch over me?” she asked, and Mathias looked a little tense.

“Titus sent me,” he said. “I knew that you were an Oracle and it was my job to make sure the others didn’t find your location.”

“Did you know that the Kajola were looking for me?”

“No,” he said. “I mean yes, but not specifically you. The Kajola always hunt the Oracles, but Damon and the others seemed to want you above all others. I’ve never seen such a direct attack with such numbers.”

“Well, we were staying in makeshift hideout full of Oracles. They probably knew we were all there.”

“Perhaps,” Mathias said.

“Thank you, by the way,” she said, hating that her voice flooded with emotion all of a sudden. “For fighting those . . . things. For getting me out of there.”

“It’s my job.”

Chantal hated his automatic response. “Yeah, well . . . thanks for doing your job, I guess.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just nice to know you’re so committed to your work. Nothing but protocol and procedure. That’s how you army types are, right?”

“Chantal, did I do something wrong?”

“Nope, not a thing. But you probably shouldn’t use my name outright like that. Wouldn’t ‘Subject Number One’, or ’Oracle Number One,’ or something like that, be more appropriate?”

“It’s not like that,” Mathias said. “You’re more important than a number.”

“Oh excuse me, then. How about Princess Oracle? Does that work better?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” she said, throwing the covers off her legs. It was then she realized that her pants were missing, and she quickly covered herself back up. “Where are my jeans?”

“They were bloody and torn,” Mathias said. “I had to toss them out.”

“My shirt is a little bloody too. It seems you were fine with leaving me sleeping in that.” She said, glancing at the stains in question.

“You don’t have anything on underneath that. It wasn’t as easy to get off without . . . complications.”

“Huh,” Chantal said, crossing her arms over her chest and flushing in embarrassment. “Such a gen’lman and sol’jur. Wou’n’t dare let nud’ty complicate the sit’iation.”

“You know, you have an accent when you get mad,” he said, smiling at her.

“I tend to do that when my anger boils over. Now, where are my pants?”

“What do you need them for?” Mathias asked, his amusement notably increasing with her growing frustration.

“I’d like to get out of this bed at some point.”

“There’s no need to just yet,” he replied, glancing at her now covered lower half.

“Whoa there, Cowboy. Eyes up here. I liked you a lot better when I thought you indifferent.” She placed a finger under his chin causing him to look up.

“Indifferent.” Mathias seemed taken aback. “Why would you think me indifferent to you, Chantal?”

“Never mind.” She huffed and focused back on the immediate problem—her lack of pants and subsequent partial nudity.

“I’d like a shower and something to eat. Then, maybe I can start to understand this carnival ride you’ve taken me on.”

“Perhaps I can offer some help,” Titus said as he stuck his head around the heavy metal door. He tossed her a bag, and it landed on the bed with a dull thud. Despite her need to dig through its contents, hoping she’d find something to freshen up with, she ignored the bag and focused on the warriors.

“What’s going on?” She glanced between the two brothers. Both of them were staring at each other as if having a silent conversation. They seemed to do that a lot. Neither of them answered right away, and she felt her frustration mount.

“Look, this crazy hunting party out there has to do with me, correct? I’m tired of being kept in the dark. I need to know what you two are so keyed up about. I have a right to know if has anything to do with me. Don’t I?”

Titus simply nodded.

“I have to tell you something, Chantal, that might not be easy to hear.”

“What are you talking about, brother?”

Her heart rate kicked up a notch at the realization Mathias was in the dark with her.

“Your memories have been tampered with, as I’m sure you’ve figured out due to the revelation of your true father’s identity,” Titus said.
 

“Why?” Mathias said.
 

Titus didn’t address him, yet answered as if Chantal were the one asking.

“Inside your mind, you have knowledge that is important to the success of our campaign. This information also contains secrets that may be hard to face.”

Mathias sat up, crossing his massive arms over his chest. He’d situated himself so that he was shielding her. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I can handle whatever you tell me.”

“Chantal, you once had a little sister who was murdered by your older brother, Damon.”

Expect maybe that.

“E-excuse me,” she said, her eyes blinking. Perhaps she’d heard him wrong.

   
“Damon is her brother,” Mathias said through clenched teeth.

Chantal could only stare in shock at what she was hearing.

“He is the oldest of three siblings born this century to the Fallen warrior, Quintus,” Titus said like he was reciting a history lesson.

A key word stood out to Chantal, and her mind began processing a thousand different scenarios.
 

“This century?” Chantal’s said, and she felt a little faint when Titus nodded.

“Of course, Quintus has had other children in the previous centuries, but those are of no consequence to this conversation.”

“No consequence?”
 

“And my brothers question my honor?” Mathias said. “How could you keep something like that from her? From me? You put me at quite a disadvantage and her in mortal danger because of this.”

“It wasn’t the right time. It wasn’t safe.”

“How could I protect her from such an adversary when I knew nothing of it. What right did you have to put us both in that kind of peril?” Mathias said.
 

Titus looked at him for a moment with no emotion. A silent conversation passed between the two brothers.
 

Frustrated and more than a little discombobulated, she held her hands up.

“Okay, I’m down with sibling rivalry and a fight between brothers now and then, but this is my life . . . well, my former life . . . we’re talking about here. Can we get back to the subject at hand?”
 

Both men turned to her.
 

“Are we talking about the same Damon, here? The one who just tried to kidnap me for torture and eventual death? That Damon?”

After a moment, Titus took a step closer to her, reaching out as if he wanted to touch her face. Chantal could see Mathias stiffen beside her.

“Leave her alone,” Mathias said, rising abruptly.

“I have to lift the ward from her mind,” Titus said calmly. “She has information we need.”

“What kind of information?” Mathis said, but Titus ignored him yet again, increasing Mathias’ anger, and frustrating Chantal to no end.

“I know you have many questions,” he said, and Chantal rolled her eyes.

“You know, I don’t think I like hanging around you two,” she said. “Since we’ve met, there’s been nothing but revelations and fighting for my life. In a short forty-eight hour period, my identity has been changed, I have no idea where I am, and my world just isn’t making sense anymore. I feel like I’m living in the
Twilight Zone
. Take me back to Regina’s! Good Lord,” she said, clutching her hand to her chest. “I never thought I’d say those words out loud. See what you do to me?”
 

She attempted a menacing glare, but his posture held no room for rebuttal. Instead of denying the inevitable, she took a step closer to him, shoulders sagging in defeat.

“This will not hurt physically, Chantal, but I cannot promise that you will be free from mental anguish.”

“Okay. Fine, let’s do this!” she said, letting her internal warrior answer what she couldn’t.
 

The nervous energy returned to her in a snap, and it seemed that this time, she would be the one who’d need some form of distraction.

A large hand slid into hers, and she relaxed feeling Mathias so close to her. Once again, he seemed to sense when she needed him. Mad or not, she knew he would die for her. If she wasn’t careful, she’d begin to depend on him. Having been an independent person for the majority if her life, Chantal found the change a little upsetting, yet thrilling at the same time.

“You hold more truth inside your mind than even I may be aware of.” Titus sat on the edge of the mattress and slid his palms on either side of her head, cupping her face in his massive grip. “Perhaps at the end of this, you could shed a light on a few things, hmm?”

She returned her gaze to Titus and saw for the first time the warming smile of her werewolf. Although he wasn’t covered in fur, the kindness in his eyes made her think of home. A picture of her childhood neighborhood formed inside her head, the comforting atmosphere bringing a nostalgic tear to her eye. Clamping her eyes shut, Chantal let out a shaky breath. She never realized just how much she’d missed it.

“Just breathe. Let your mind go. Remember your home, your bedroom. Let it all come back.”

Each scene passed in her mind. She could see them clearly, as if it was yesterday. The familiar smells, the warm summer sun of her hometown, reminded her of happiness and safety. Both things she hadn’t truly felt for years, flooding her mind and forming a cocoon of warmth and awareness.

Her mother’s image came next, light and beauty personified. She could envision her cool blue eyes, her corn silk hair, her soft and hypnotic voice.

“Chantal, you’ll get all dirty, honey,” her mother said, and laughed as a small girl climbed the wide base of an olive tree.

“I’m brave and tough, just like Damon,” the girl said, sounding every bit the determined, younger sister.

“No, you’re not, you runt!” a dark-haired boy hollered from high up, his dark eyes reflected his minute victory, even if it was to be short-lived.

“I will help you, princess,” a deep, male voice said, and the most handsome man appeared from the house, his gray skin the only oddity to his otherworldly beauty. In his arms, he carried a little girl. The epitome of her mother, she had bright blue eyes and hair like the sun. She smiled and clapped her tiny hands excitedly.

“Luanne . . .” Her sister’s name came out without conscience thought, and Chantal, still sitting clamped her eyes tighter together against the sharp memory of her long-forgotten baby sister.

“Up!” the little girl said, reaching her hands up, and her father lifted her into the air, much to the child’s delight.

“You got her, Damon?” Their father sat his youngest on the branch beside her brother, and the older boy wrapped a steady arm around his sister, his eyes fixed on her bouncing body like the protector he’d always been.

“I got her, Dad,” he said.

With the tenacity of her mother, and the stubborn streak of her father, the young Chantal tugged and pulled herself along the trunk, ignoring the scrapes on her knees as the rough bark dug in.

Her mother reached out to the girl when her grip faltered, but her father silently told her to wait. She struggled, groaning and panting, but in the end, she made it to the top of the tree. Her sister and brother clapped their approval, and she threw her fist into the air in triumph.