Rebirth of the Seer (9 page)

“Not as much as you’d suspect.” Her lids shut again, the hand holding mine tightening once before relaxing into a looser hold. “If you see him, tell him I have faith in him. I think between the two of you I’m in good hands.”

“Capable ones, at the very least.”

“We’ll argue that one later.” A grimace lingered on her face until she stilled enough to sink into the makeshift bed. I waited until a light snore passed through her lips before gingerly lifting her into my arms again. A short trek through the house brought us up to the main floor and a much less daunting stroll through the front door. I was taken aback when I spied the neighbors yet on their porches, but their response astonished me more than it left me feeling threatened. They glanced at Monica and nodded toward me. I could not help but to furrow my brow while nodding in return.

The remainder of our journey was blissfully bereft of any further incident.
We arrived a
t the safe house
a few hours later
, my strength and stealth put to the test when I chose a meandering path back to our sanctuary
.
I eased
Monica into her bed,
shaking out the folds in one of her blankets before draping the fabric over her
body
. H
er eyelids fluttered once, and a soft voice murmured, “Thank you, Flynn
,
”
before being quieted again.

“It was the least I could do for you
, my dear.
” Bending at the waist, I touched her forehead and smoothed her hair away from her face. Memories crept softly into my mind, but I was well aware of how exhausted the entire debacle had left me. “Rest, my dear,” I said
, as apt to follow the advice as I was to give it
. “We have much to talk about, but that will come
in time.

“W
hen
we are bo
th in a better position
to do so
.”

A Being Divided

“… Why I’m so sympathetic to the monsters.
The answer is simple. Because I am one.”

Laurell K. Hamilton

Being an orphan has the unfortunate side effect of making the
topic
of families depressing. When one has lost the two people dearest to them, they find themselves not asking much about friends’ relations for fear of being consumed by jealousy. Still, it inevitably happens. The complaints will pour forth, or tales of some exploit will spill from their lips, their eyes sparkling as they talk of parents and grandparents, brothers and sisters. My parents long since perished – and my aunt gone, too, by the time I met Lydia – I did not even have siblings.

The subject came up between us, however, as these subjects are oft to do.

Seated at her dining room table one evening, I thumbed through a photo album I had seen grace Lydia’s coffee table in recent days. While the addition had been a curiosity, the photos each page
contained
only made me more confused; the subjects she captured were all relatively normal-looking, a contrast to Lydia’s eccentricities. And I did not recognize a one of them from any time she had introduced me to friends from school. Looking up from the album, my gaze settled on Lydia through the doorway leading into the kitchen. “Who are these people?” I asked. “They’re not your relatives, are they?”

Lydia glanced at me,
momentarily
taking her eyes off whatever she had been preparing for dinner before turning her attention back to the meal. “Oh, they’re just folks I’ve known through school and work an
d places like that. Some
I’ve never met before, too.” She paused. “I like collecting pictures of people. It sounds kind of strange, but I’ll snap shots of them even if I don’t know them.”

I chuckled. “So you photograph strangers just for the hell of it?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.” She smirked mischievously without taking her focus off the cutting board in front of her. “And you, Peter Dawes. How about when you ask your patients about something more than what hurts and why? Do you have to know them to be interested in them?”

I shrugged. “No, perhaps not. But there’s usually a reason why I’m asking them about their lives.”

“Well, I have a reason, too.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s humanity in action. They’re laughing and crying. Lovers kiss and then they fight. The pictures are all about life.”

I raised an eyebrow and continued flipping through the pages in an effort to see what Lydia was talking about. After a while, a panorama of the human experience became evident as pages full of one emotion or another
took
shape. I saw pictures of couples embracing one another in moments both
warm and passionate. I saw
the young and the old, the sick and the whole; but nothing struck a chord with me more than seeing pictures of families emerge in the closing pages.

I barely noticed when Lydia walked up beside me. “What is it?” she asked as she set a plate of food down onto the table. She peered at me, curious. “You look like you have a lot on your mind.”

I did not answer at first. Part of me was still trying to piece together what bothered me about seeing happy families; or even looking at the ones where marital discord was evident and the kids were crying over some sort of malady. They had something I did not have and was not certain I ever would. After a moment of silence, I looked at her. “Lydia, why are these pictures all of people you’re either barely acquainted with or don’t know at all?” I
asked. I could not help but to
frown. “You act as though you’re as solitary as I am.”

She hesitated, allowing her eyes to drift down to the photo album before they returned me. “Peter, there’s a lot about my life that you’re not ready to hear about yet. We’ve only been together for a few months and it’s going to take a while for me to feel comfortable laying it all out for you.”

“And yet my life has been an open book.” A foreign poison bubbled into my veins, a wave of resentment cresting over the normal cheer and calm her presence inspired. For a moment, our relationship
seemed unjustly
lopsided. I swallowed hard and attempted as neutral of a comment as I could muster. “You know everything there is to know about me and anticipate what I’m going to say as though you can read my mind. But I barely know anything about you.”

“Fair enough.” Lydia sighed, lowering herself onto my lap and hooking an arm around my shoulders. “Ask away, then. I’ll try to be as honest as possible.”

“Alright.” I stole a moment to determine the most pressing question I had, and laughed as it sprung to mind. “You’ll have to forgive me if this makes me sound jealous or possessive, but what do you do when you’re not at school or with me?”

Lydia chuckled.  “I assist with research studies on the paranormal.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The paranormal?”

“Yes, the paranormal. Metaphysics. I study things that deal with the supernatural and try to figure out why they happen.” She smirked. “That stuff you call superstitious bullshit. Well, it kind of interests me.”

What kind of an ass did that make me, then? “I didn’t realize that. I might not have been so blunt about saying
it
had I known.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t want you to know.” Lydia patted my shoulder. “I know you’re a skeptic, Peter. I never wanted you to pretend to be something you’re not ready to be yet.”

“You say that as though I’ll change my mind one day.”

“You will, but that’s something we can discuss another time.” Lydia winked at me and leaned in to give me a quick peck on the lips. When she pulled away, the smile returned to her face. “Next question?”

I reached up to play with a piece of her long brown hair. “Favorite color?”

“Green.”

“Have you ever owned any pets?”

“Two, both dogs. I had to give them away when I got this apartment.”

“Your favorite kind of food?”

“Chinese.”

“Your hometown?”

“Seattle, Washington.”

I nodded and followed the question with its next logical leap. “Tell me more about your family.”

Lydia’s smile evaporated. I furrowed my brow upon seeing this reaction. “Sore subject?” I asked, afraid I had committed my second faux pas for the evening.

“Um, no…” He gaze fell toward her lap. “No, I…I just don’t talk about them that often.”

I waited for her eyes to find mine again before continuing. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

Lydia hesitated. “Peter,” she said, visibly struggling with the words. “I have a…very peculiar family. They…” She paused again. “Well, my mother died when I was very little. She was killed by…Well, she was killed. Very suddenly and very tragically. My father remarried. I have a younger sister and everyone lives in Seattle. That’s where it ends with me.”

My curiosity was piqued all the more. “I had no idea you lost a parent.”

“Well, I did. When I was two.” She sighed and looked away once more. “Her death is one of the reasons my family got interested in the supernatural. Dad especially, but then the rest of us were almost forced into studying occultism.” She looked back at me. “The…thing… that killed my mom…You could say it was tied to the supernatural.”

“Thing?” Al
l of my skepticism aside, I saw the same fear
in Lydia’s eyes that
was present
the night we met, when she collided into me as
though running
for her life. She still had
yet to tell me
what
sent her fleeing
. “It scares you, doesn’t it?”

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Yes, it does. I don’t sleep with my lights out and I don’t walk alone in the dark unless I have to.” She frowned. “I kind of envy you in that way. You don’t see any of it yet, so you’re not afraid. I’ve lived with it since I was a little girl and I’ve feared the same thing that got my mother would get me too. Dad did the best he could, but my sister is a lot better at this than I am.” She laughed. “She’s the one who should be talking to you right now, not me.”

“You sister studies the supernatural, too, I take it?”

“Oh yes. Some families
have vacations to Disneyland – w
e took trips to sacred monuments and watched rituals. Sis could soak it in like a sponge and I just wanted to run the hell away.” She laughed. “This is why I find it
ironic that I’m the one who.
..”

I furrowed my brow when she trailed away. “Who what?”

She smiled wanly. “I don’t understand how destiny works, I guess. How I found you when I shouldn’t be the one
gifted with something
so precious.”

The compliment caused me to smile. “I ask myself the same question about you all of the time.”

Lydia chuckled and touched my chest. “You have no idea what I mean yet, Peter,” she said with a wink. “But thank you. One day you’ll understand what I mean when I say that while I’m glad I’m the one who got to love you first, it would have been better for you to have met my sister. I’m sure you will someday, and maybe it might click why I’m telling you all this. She’s fearless; she could teach you much more than I could and…” Lydia’s smile faded as an odd mood swing overcame her. “I don’t know. For all I know she may have to someday.” Her eyes shifted back to me. “I’m sorry, Peter. None of this is making any sense, I’m sure.”

Needless to say, she had grossly understated the truth. Baffled, I blinked at Lydia and tried to make sure I was dealing with a
rational
person as I spoke. “Lydia, I’m sure your sister is an intelligent woman, and the resident go-to girl for all things supernatural, but you’re the one I fell in love with
, and not for any reason regarding the
otherworldly
.”

Lydia waved her hand dismissively. “Forget I said all of that stuff. They’re words for another time. Just trust me when I say that if anything happens to me I’ll make sure you’re taken care of and let’s leave it at that.”

I
had
started
to comment, but was cut off by Lydia when she reached forward and gave me another quick kiss
. S
he stood and
retreated back into
the kitc
hen, further ending the discussion by
saying, “D
inner’s ready. Let’s talk about something else while I pour us some wine. I’m sure that you don’t want boring and depressing stories about my upbringing to make the mood somber in here tonight, do you?”

I could hardly argue with the change of subject
without prying against her wishes
, especially when I still had no idea what the hell Lydia had been
alluding toward.
“No,” I said in the most agreeable manner possible. The last thing I wanted was for her to get another wild notion that she had to take care of me after some mysterious departure
,
for her to set me up with her sister or some such nonsense. So I vowed to never bring
up the subject
again.

***

Seven years later, the vow I made was about to be broken
.

Monica smiled at me weakly as I strolled into her room the next evening, still lying in her bed clad in a hospital gown with her blankets covering her body. I had waited several hours upon rising to disturb her, but the sound of a soft groan compelled me away from the meticulous polish of my arsenal of weapons. They did not need it, but my mind had been far too occupied to engage with anything else
. I was
not fully settled we were secure despite the Order’s ignorance of our whereabouts
. Now, I found myself staring at her, wondering where in the heavens to start. “Are you in pain?” I finally asked after a few moments had passed.

“A lot of pain,” she said. Her pallor ghastly, she looked as though she could have benefitted from a shower and a proper feeding. I almost wished she was a vampire so I could be of some assistance. “I think the anesthetic finally wore away.”

“I forgot to steal a supply of medicine for you.” I frowned, both at the oversight and at her general appearance. “I shall have to arrange for some antibiotics, at the very least. You seem to be out-of-the-woods, to use the vernacular, but we do not wish for you to get an infection.”

“I have a trick or two up my sleeve, but that’d be a nice gesture if you could.” As she shifted,
I winced and the way her
clenched
teeth
gave away what an agonizing decision that had been. She shut her eyes. “Come to think of it, put higher priority on the painkillers, Flynn. I’d take a fever over this.”

“For the sake of your comfort, I shall attempt both, but I do not know if Chloe can help me or if I shall need to sneak into the hospital instead.” Motioning forward, I walked to the edge of her bed and sat. A sigh prefaced my next statement. “I left just as it seemed we were letting bygones be bygones.”

Mon
ica opened her eyes. “C
humming with your old buddies while I slept?”

“Hardly.” I smiled wanly. “I believe she thinks I am a monster. Perhaps best for her well-being.”