Consequences

  Ann is so small compared to Christopher’s lanky frame, but I can tell her personality more than makes up for her size. Dark chocolate hair cascades over her shoulders, and hangs in loose curls around her face. I have the sudden urge to pull one of the strands away from her eyes, but think better of it, when I notice the way she is looking at Christopher. There is love in that determined gaze, and I am surprised that I feel jealous. I watch her eyes shift from beneath thick lashes; she is studying his face, the way one does when they’re in the middle of a deep conversation. Then I remember what Ann’s talent is … she can project her voice into people’s minds. She is having a conversation with Christopher, a one-sided conversation … but maybe she can reach him. So I decide to give the girls some privacy alone with Christopher.

  Walking into the kitchen, I set to work making a new batch of coffee in the French press. With a fresh, steaming mug in hand, I take Lune outside for a walk. The air is cool enough for the mug to fog up my sunglasses when I take a drink, giving the tree line a paranormal haze. As I watch, Lune passes behind one of the trees, cautiously stalking an unseen presence. His tail is down, but the hair on his back doesn’t prickle; even in his careful posture, there isn’t any sign of a pending threat.

  “If you have come to visit us, there is no need to hide. I can’t hear, see, or sense you; therefore I assume you’re a very special kind of visitor. There are people in the cabin that are better suited to greet you. If you come out of the trees, I’ll bring someone out here to meet with you.” I try to keep my voice level, but in hearing it waver a little … I have to admit how unnerved I am at the thought that V may have followed Ann here from Vegas. Although after reading Lune’s posture, I am pretty sure this is a new guest, one he has never met. One, who doesn't seem to be a threat.

  Smoothly turning, to hide my paranoia, I head back into the cabin. I can hear Ann’s voice from the bedroom … it appears that her silent, one-sided conversation, has become a loud pleading for Christopher to wake up. Tentatively opening the door enough to stick my head into the room, I ask her to join me in the kitchen. Shaking her head at Christopher, she slides off the bed, and grabs her empty mug off the nightstand.

  I offer to take her mug and refill it, and she gladly hands it over and then distractedly mouths a quiet thank you. As she sits down at the table, I notice that her eyebrows are pressed together; the expression of deep thought is actually very attractive on her. Wait, you can’t allow yourself to be distracted, there is too much we need to discuss … plus, she doesn’t even know you’re alive.

  “Did you make any progress with finding out what is tormenting him?” I place the mug down in front of her and join her at the table.

  “No … like you said, he’s in a bad way. He seems to have simply given up. This has to be about Ellie … Tell me, has she been back?” My heart skips a beat as she looks in my eyes, clearly trying to read what has been happening since she talked to Christopher last.

  “Not physically, but he’s been visiting her with Artemis’s help.” I answer her questioning expression before she can speak. “Christopher thinks that Artemis can pass through the veil between the ethereal mist and our own. She has a special connection to Christopher, and takes him on these journeys to see Ellie while they sleep. Going on, about ten days ago now; he didn’t wholly return from their last trip. Something has happened to Ellie; I’ve gathered that much from his ramblings … and whatever it was … it broke him, and buried part of his soul across the bridge to their world. I’m just a normal guy with no clue how to help … that’s why I called you. I’m sorry to have dragged you into this.”

  Holding my stare, she reaches out and takes my hand. “I’m glad you called; he never would have. I’m not sure what I can do either … I don’t have the same kind of talent as Christopher. I don’t know of anyone who is as powerful, is as connected to the mist, as he is … except maybe, other than Artemis, and I can’t talk to her. Damn it … the helplessness is stifling. I just wish there was some way … or someone who could help us find out what happened to Ellie.”

  I don’t want to let go of her hand, small and delicate, it feels so soft against my callused fingers. What she has said about finding someone … perhaps another creature like Ellie, who could help us, suddenly I remember our guest outside. “Ann, there is someone outside that I think you should meet. Lune found them earlier, and well, let’s just say they are the kind of visitor that only you and the dogs can see. Lune didn’t act like they were a threat, but I’ll leave that decision up to you.”

  “I made sure no one followed me … especially not V! He has been fixated on paying Christopher back. If V found him in this condition, he’d take great delight in ripping Christopher to shreds.” Panic seeps into her words and her eyes become large with fear.

  “No, no … I don’t think it's V. Lune acted like it was someone new, someone he’d never met before.”

  “You don’t think!?! Well, that right there would be our problem.”

  As she stands she shoves the chair back and it topples over. Stomping her feet, she walks over and grabs her coat. Shoving her hands into the sleeves, she looks back at me expectantly. “Are you coming?”

  Chapter 17

  Comprehension

  I follow Ann out the front door; trying to not look at my feet as we walk, but I feel like a scolded child, so I guess I should look like one. The confident pace of Ann’s stride makes her look ten feet taller than her five-foot-two-inch height; and I have a feeling that whoever is out here is going to be intimidated by her manner. Calling Lune to my side, I send him out in front of us. Seeing Lune’s attitude as he runs out to greet the unknown presence changes Ann’s determined paranoia, concerning the potential threat looming in the trees. He runs fearlessly to the spot where I ask the entity to wait; and, as this is his second peaceful greeting, he has his tail held high in a friendly wave.

  Ann stops, and watches the exchange with a weary expression. Studying the trees for a glimpse of something important that will confirm her claim that Lune and I are being reckless; her body language is still screaming: suspicion. Immediately stiffening, she catches her breath with a sharp audible intake of air through her teeth.

  “Who are you?” Despite her stance of mistrust, her voice is full of wonder at the sight of what is standing before us.

  “What? Ann … what?” I don’t know if I should be frightened or relieved, but the knot forming in my stomach is leaning towards frightened.

  She holds one finger up at me, telling me to wait … and then she proceeds to continue talking to thin air. I might have taken the signal better if I hadn’t just been scolded like a school boy. Plus, what does she care … she doesn’t even know my name. Fuming, but with enough common sense to keep my mouth shut, I stride over, lean against a nearby tree, and listen to Ann’s side of the conversation. I am hoping for something to start making sense in all this crap.

  “Wait a minute … why does it matter that I can see you? Okay. I think I recognize the Symboulio … but here, in America, it’s pronounced Symbio … the Council of Symbio, and there is nothing for you to fear from them. I joined the council about six months ago; they are all about forming symbiotic relationships with ethereal Others. Yes, it was founded by the original European settlers, but their doctrine was rewritten to include Native American knowledge … as a matter of fact quite a few of the council elders are Native American.”

  Ann pauses for a long time, listening, and nodding her head … her posture starts to reshape out of stiff paranoia, and into something like reverence. When she speaks again, I can barely hear the words that she shapes with such care, “Ho Thanatos?”

  Something pure and delicate is uttered in the way Ann’s lips handle the words. I want to know what they mean … I want to know who this is, and how they can crack a hard nut like Ann, so quickly.

  “You’re saying there is such a thing as Ho Thanatos hunters? What does any of this have to do with your need to speak to Christopher?” Wi
th the wonder in her voice and the change in her body language, as annoying as it is to be left in the dark, I know that this conversation is important in answering most of, if not all, our questions.

  “Ann, obviously this is someone who is in our best interest to know. Would you like to move this discussion into the cabin?” When she meets my eyes I see an incomprehensible sadness that melts my irritation immediately. I walk back over to her side and lightly grab her hand, and gently turning her, I lead us all back in the direction of the front door.

  “Michael … she said that Ellie’s gone, she's been murdered.” She knows my name, and hearing it on her tongue makes me smile … but only for a second, as comprehension dawns on what is breaking Christopher. But Ann doesn’t offer any further explanation as we walk back inside.

  Lune follows about ten feet behind us; preceded by our guest, is my best guess. After he moves inside, I close out the cold, hoping that I don’t shut out any unseen visitors. Turning, I find Ann over by the wood burning stove talking to the chair. She still has her coat on; and even though sweat is beading on her forehead, she is shivering. It seems that, our guest has decided to grant us the pleasure of their company.

  When I hear Artemis scratching at Christopher’s door, I am struck by the sudden question … how will she respond to the presence that is talking with Ann? Curiosity leads me to the door; and even though I am not sure if it is a good idea, I let Artemis out to investigate. She walks cautiously over to the chair, with her head held high, it is obvious that she is trying to make, and hold, eye contact. Instead of lowering her tail, in a show of mistrust, she holds it curled upward, not wagging in friendship, but to illustrate that she is willing to give this person a chance. Never breaking eye contact, she slowly sits in front of the chair that seems empty to me, but obviously holds someone of great importance. I can’t believe my eyes as I watch the fur of her mane flatten as if it was being stroked. Artemis responds to the affection by leaning her head against the unseen hand. I have the feeling that I am watching the interaction between two very majestic creatures, a historical meeting never witnessed before. And, I wish I could see like Ann.

  With my thoughts shifting to Ann, I notice that she had stopped talking at some point, and is watching the exchange with as much interest as me. While Artemis plays hostess, I think it is a good time to ask Ann, who this creature is, and what she has learned. Again gently placing my hand on Ann’s, I guide her into the living room. Helping her take off her coat, and trying to comfort her through the shock of whatever she has learned, I press for enlightenment.

  “Her name is Cassandra. She is the original Cassandra from Greek mythology … and she was Ellie’s mentor.” Ann’s voice is in a state of perpetual awe, and hearing what she is saying, I can understand why.

  “That can’t be right … that would make her … something like, three thousand years old?”

  Dreamily looking through my eyes, “I know … but, Michael … if you could see her, the energy, the beauty … my God, if you could see the power surrounding her …” As her words trail off, I understand almost immediately; Ann has never seen anything so regal, so magnificent as Cassandra … not even in her dreams.

  “Okay, Okay … then, do we believe her?” I don’t think Ann actually believes anyone, and blind faith is definitely not one of her attributes. Knowing that Ann will rather err on the side of caution in matters of trust, and even though I sound like an imbecile in need of guidance on how to blow my nose, asking her opinion seems to be the best idea.

  Finally bringing my face into focus, she has a look of confusion. “Yes … I think … I do trust her.”

  “Then, please, tell me what happened to Ellie.”

  “She isn’t exactly sure … if we are going to accept that she is ‘The Cassandra’… then, I guess we have to accept that she actually has visions. She said she saw Ellie in a vision, being hunted by the Symboulio. And that they cornered her, after the boat she was sailing on docked, in a coastal Greek village.” She sounds tense, like she has witnessed the attack for herself … as far as I know Ann has never even met Ellie. Evidently something more than words passed between Cassandra and Ann.

  “Wait a minute, Ann … what is the Symboulio? I heard you mention them when we were outside; along with the Symbio … you said you were a member.” I can feel the threads of understanding starting to braid themselves together … finally, I’m going to know more than Christopher, about something … anything.

  “I am a member of the Symbio … here; it’s a council that works alongside the ethereal creatures. They mostly work to expand the knowledge of world events from beings that were actually there, they are also interested in the scientific study of extra-sensory perceptions. Like I said, I only just joined, but I believe that they are doing good work. They do police the malevolent behavior of both the creatures and living people with talents … but that isn’t their prime objective. What Cassandra described, the Symboulio, they are crusaders bent on destruction of the ethereal realm. She said that, in her vision, Ellie was acting as if she had befriended a boy, a ‘seer’ like me, who belongs to the Symboulio, and that he led her into a trap. Cassandra watched, as the boy stabbed Ellie with a special knife covered in poison. Apparently, the poison could paralyze, possibly even kill, her Ho Thanatos core while the knife would dispatch the solid form Ellie was projecting. Cassandra helplessly viewed Ellie bleed out her life force, a bright green energy that was the center of her essence. Cassandra feels incredibly guilty for not being there … she was telling me about a conversation she’d overheard, when Artemis interrupted. She was telling me that she heard the Symboulio were actually after a powerful precog … they were after her.” Ann’s gaze becomes serious as she turns to look at the chair where Cassandra and Artemis still sit.

  “You don’t blame her, do you? How was she supposed to stop it from happening? At least we know why Christopher is in that condition. Now; we just need to figure out a way to help him.”

  Ann looks into my eyes with a question on her lips. Her expression changes from the harsh examination she placed on Cassandra, to one of consideration and sympathy. “You are a good friend, Michael; I’m glad you called, if for no other reason than I could meet you. I think that we should ask Cassandra exactly what she heard, and saw, and then maybe, something will come to us about helping Christopher.”

  “All right … that sounds like a solid place for us to start off … but you’re going to have to talk to me, and tell me what she’s saying.” Ann’s face becomes focused once more on Cassandra, and I’m not exactly sure if she heard me … damn, it sucks being normal.

  Following behind Ann, I’m drawn back into noticing how powerful her character is compared to her physical dimensions. She is a survivor, reminding me of smooth river rocks worn into gems by the rolling rush of water. Her life has shaped her into something that beguiles the senses … but at the same time she is so hard and unfathomable. I find myself deeply fascinated, and repulsed, by her fierce independence. And, I have no idea what to make of her statement about being glad to meet me. But I can’t ignore the way my heart sped up when she first said my name, or the pit that formed in my stomach as she looked into my eyes with such thoughtfulness. I haven’t been this confused by the opposite sex since … Lilly.

  Ann turns and looks at me with an expectant glance; I distinctly hear her voice in my head. With a jagged edge to her tone, “Well?” rings inside my skull. Apparently I am supposed to start the questioning. I nod, as I pull two chairs over and place them facing Cassandra.

  I am not sure how this is going to work; so as I sit down and turn on my interrogation technique, hoping that we will find a way to communicate. Crouching forward in my chair with my elbows on my knees, I follow Artemis’s line of sight to what I assume are Cassandra’s eyes. “You were about to tell Ann what you saw the day Ellie died … could you, please, continue?”

  Artemis shifts her position so that she can watch our three-way conversation from the sidelin
es, in the process she looks up at Cassandra and then turns to look at me. As long as I am observant, I can catch onto the nuances of Artemis and Ann’s body language, and hopefully understand some of what is happening. Artemis’s move tells me that I not only have Cassandra’s attention, but she is speaking directly to me. Trying not to seem too confused, I look over at Ann for some assistance.

  When Ann’s voice settles in my mind this time, it is soothing and calm. She is repeating Cassandra’s story word for word, silently projecting the tale directly into my brain, while at the same time nudging her head to the left … trying to tell me to look at the storyteller, not at her beautiful caramel colored eyes. Distracted momentarily by my own stupidity, I mouth, ‘Oh right’ and turn to face Cassandra once again.

  The story starts with a recap of what Ann has already explained to me. Ann’s voice has a hypnotic effect, and soon, I feel as if I am actually hearing Cassandra’s words.

  “Cassandra, Ann explained most of this to me already … and I do want to know the specifics of Ellie’s murder, but so that I can understand the players and the motive, I need to know more about this group, the Symboulio. Please, tell me what you were about to tell Ann … tell me what you overheard, first. Details could be important, try to remember as much as possible.” I need Cassandra to switch from giving us the highlights to giving us the entire story. I need to put myself into that moment in time, so that I can grasp the situation. Be careful of what you wish for … because you might get it.

  I still can’t see Cassandra, though I can imagine her sitting before me scratching Artemis’s neck. In the intensity of the moment … Ann’s voice, Artemis watching our exchange like a tennis match, and the fur in her mane moving on its own accord … I guess sometimes believing is seeing, because there before me sits the prophetess of Delphi, the princess of Troy, in all her glory. I can’t tell what she looks like, or what she sounds like, with any certainty … I just simply know, she is there.