Destiny's Revenge (Destiny Series - Book 2) (4 page)

“I agree, Lauren, you need to relax, you need to breathe deeply, close your eyes and think only of Max. Beyond this advice I cannot help you. Though I do not possess the power of sight, this is how I find minds that I need to listen in on. You must relax your mind, allow yourself to travel.”

As Rewsna instructed, I laid back on my bed, closed my eyes and thought only of Max. I steadied my breathing so that it sounded less like a woman in labor, but I couldn’t get calmed down enough to make it feel like I was even teetering on a light sleep, let alone plunging into a deep meditation. She whispered to me after a few minutes, quietly, “Visualize his eyes, Lauren. Tell your mind you want to see his eyes wherever they are.” She offered other suggestions like visualize your hand in his, think back to your first meeting and the magnetic pull you felt to him. Although all of these were great memories, none of them miraculously took me to Max.

She sat by while I tried several times. Nothing worked. Rewsna simply stated, “It will take practice.”

I visualized that shrub that he had sat under on the mountain, to no avail. I lay with my eyes closed, reliving that moment when I realized who was coming up the mountain. The emotion of relief to see him, of recognition when I touched his face spilled over me. Rewsna must have seen it all playing through my mind when she quietly told me, “Lauren, you are trying too hard. You need to relax.”

Rewsna reached into her bag and pulled out her scrabble board and began to set it up on my coffee table. I thought back to that day in the dessert shop where she was sitting by herself playing a game of scrabble with no board. I thought it odd at the time. She had the board set up and the tiles laid out when she motioned for me to play with her. I rolled my eyes, but not wanting to offend her, I joined the game.

I hadn’t played in years, but she was right. I needed to relax and this would definitely get my mind off of my new found power that didn’t seem to work very well. We had played several rounds when I picked up A – A – E – N – R- S – W. I fumbled with the letters when I arranged them on my holder and realized I had
Rewsna a
. She had such an odd name that I turned my holder so she could see and showed her Rewsna spelled out, “I should get a double word score for this one.”

Rewsna grinned a little mischievously, “You know we do not select our own names.”

“So does that mean your parents had a sense of humor, and gave you a name that would build character or something?” I had always thought of Rewsna as being foreign born, that maybe her name was common where she was from.

Her grin held but she shook her head slightly, “No, the Council chose my name for me and whispered it to my mother.” She slid my tile holder to her and moved the tiles around: the same letters spelled
Answer
.

A little surprised at the coincidence, I asked, “So even as a child they knew people would bombard you with questions and you would be the one with answers?”

Rewsna nodded slightly, looking embarrassed. “You were much more fortunate than I.”

“Why, because I got a normal name? I guess you’re right. If I had been named Rewsna, I would have probably turned into a schoolyard bully to keep kids from teasing me.”

Rewsna fumbled around with the tiles until she had L-A-U-R-E-N spelled out in front of me, “You were named for your powers as well.”

Confused and unsure if she had suddenly developed a sense of humor, “I have
Lauren
powers? Well that’s a new one on me. Here I thought the power of sight you were talking about seemed cool, but
Lauren Powers,
that really is something!” Sarcasm was in my voice again, but this time she only looked border-line perturbed.

Rewsna slowly shook her head and moved the same tiles to spell out the word U –N - R-E – A-L. “We knew your powers would far exceed those of any individual member of the Council, so much so, that we could only describe them as
Unreal Powers
.”

Just then a shard of light flashed through my brain. I fell to my knees and wanted to scream. The light felt like a white hot branding iron scorching me right behind my eye sockets. I couldn’t breathe, as if my lungs were too stunned to function. The light anesthetized all of my senses: I couldn’t see anything other than the light…I couldn’t breathe, or smell, or touch. Pain isn’t an appropriate enough description.

After a few minutes the brightness began to fade a little, and although my senses were still cut off from me, the searing pain began to subside, and I was finally able to take in air. My vision started to show spots the way you see them after you look away from the sun on a clear day. As my vision went from spots to blur, I could feel that I was on my hands and knees on the floor.

Rewsna was at my side helping support the weight of my torso. “What happened?” was all I could choke out.

“It was an invasion. Has that ever happened to you before?” Urgency was in her voice, tempered with something else: it sounded like fear.

I managed to get out, “No, I think I would have remembered something like that. What the heck is an invasion? Is that like a seizure?”

“Silly girl, you keep equating your experiences to normal occurrences that anyone might have. When will you get it through your head that you are not like everyone else?”

Invasion? What could possibly be invading me through my eye sockets? As my vision came back into focus, I looked at Rewsna’s face and my inclination was exactly on the mark: she looked scared. Steadying my voice, trying to downplay whatever that was, “All right, I’ll bite, what do you mean by an invasion?”

“I cannot be sure. Did you feel a white light as if lightning had struck you?”

That was an understatement. Although I’ve never been hit by twenty thousand volts, I don’t believe it would have been any more painful than the last few minutes. I answered, “The white light hurt, but I couldn’t take a breath, and it felt a little like I was disconnected from my body again. What just invaded me?”

Rewsna looked torn as if she did not feel comfortable sharing her opinion with me. Finally, she answered, “I believe the Beast sent one of his pusillanimous legion to invade you, to try to possess you.”

“Pusill-what? What in the world is that?”

“A pusillanimous is a cowardly, spineless creature, who does the bidding of the Beast. Some have the power to possess humans and make them do things they would never normally do. They are spineless because they attack one’s mind. They are not a physical threat and cannot do any real damage to your body, but if it really was a pusillanimous, the Beast now knows you are alive and growing stronger. It will not be safe for you to stay here much longer.”

I looked at the closet and imagined throwing what few clothes I had into a shopping bag and heading out the door. Rewsna continued, “But I imagine they have never met the likes of you. You did not let him take possession of you. You shut him out and sent him away.”

“So that was good, right?”

“Of course, it was good. I can just imagine the Beast must be furious. By thwarting the pusillanimous’ attack, he may not know where you actually are. Not only can he not find you because you took his power of sight away, you shut down one of his demons without much of a fight; you wouldn’t let it in your mind, and you refused to give way to it. We cannot delay your recovery, but for the time being you are safe here.”

This time with Rewsna was very enlightening: I am supposed to have some pretty awesome powers, though I’m not sure what they are. I have somehow taken away a power from the Beast that stalked and nearly killed me; unfortunately, I don’t know how to use the power. I was just attacked by some sort of demon that I can’t pronounce, and the most comforting thing Rewsna could think to say to me was I am safe here for the time being. I knew she could hear the whirlwind of thoughts in my mind so decided to ask out loud, “So much for our calming game of scrabble. Is there anything else I should know about that you have neglected to tell me? I mean you are the one with all the answers, right?”

Rewsna scooted a little closer to me on the couch, “Lauren, all the fables you heard as a child, all the scary stories told around a campfire, did they ever really scare you?” I shook my head awkwardly that they didn’t. She continued with, “Is it because the storyteller did not embellish the story enough, or did you know deep within you that you would never in your life be a victim, that you would never allow evil to have the upper hand?”

Unsure how to answer, I finally responded with, “I don’t know about either. I do know that whatever it was that came into the campsite that night scared the crap out of me. I know that it took two years away from me. I know that I feel lost without Max telling me everything’s going to be fine. You tell me I have this crazy power, but you don’t know how to work it. I was just attacked by a cross between a migraine and a lightning bolt, now you’re telling me that I am Teflon for evil because I don’t get scared by ghost stories. Rewsna, I don’t know what to believe or even what to be frightened of anymore. I just want my life back.”

She was empathetic to my tantrum; she slowly started putting the scrabble board back into its box. “Rewsna, I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help, but it’s a little overwhelming.”

“Lauren, you have nothing to be sorry for. I will help you when I can, and I will support you no matter what. I, too, want you to have your life back.”

After Rewsna left, I made my way to the veranda to soak up some sunshine. I sat with Joe listening to one of his stories about how good young people have it these days, when I started to get tunnel vision. I could hear less of what he was saying, which wasn’t a bad thing from my perspective. After a minute or so I lost focus on him altogether. The tunnel looked like a smaller version of the concourse connector at the Detroit airport. Lights swirling around the sides, it was inviting with no clear picture of what was on the other side. I couldn’t hear Joe anymore, although I knew he was still talking, and I knew it looked as though I were still listening.

I took the step into the awaiting tunnel, emerging on the other end in a dark place. It felt like a cave: there was almost no illumination, and I could feel the pangs of fear gripping me from my aversion to the dark. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out a shadowy figure lying down flat and another figure several feet away sitting Indian style.

I gingerly made my way the ten feet or so to the person I saw seated. Before his night-washed features came into view, I knew it was Max. I wanted to leap into his arms, for him to know that I was here with him. Max looked in my direction, and for an instant I thought he could see me, but after Rewsna’s explanation today I knew better; I knew I was merely here in spirit. At least seeing him gave me renewed hope. I was thankful just to know that he was okay, despite not knowing where he was.

I knelt down beside him. His face looked different, still beautiful, but leaner; even in the darkness it was weathered by the sun. That easy smile he always wore seemed nowhere to be found, his expression hollow. I reached my hand to his cheek and felt his stubbly face, the softness of his earlobe, the sandy grit on his neck. I rested my head on his shoulder. I could hear him breathing and told myself that this was enough. Max was okay. I got to be there with him: I could touch him, taste the salt on his lips, hear his heartbeat.

The man on the floor stirred, almost inaudibly, “What day is it?”

Max answered quietly, “It’s Friday, just a few more hours until the rendezvous. You’re going to make it, Ski.”

“Yeah, that’s what you keep telling me, but I’m gonna make it long enough to die en route to the hospital. I told you not to waste the water on me.”

“I’ve seen people lots worse off than you, and they didn’t whine like little babies. They’re all still alive, so how about you save your energy, and shut the hell up. You’re going to be fine.” Max’s voice was vacant of emotions, as if someone else were speaking. I thought maybe it was the exhaustion, possibly dehydration; whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk to this man.

“Name one person you’ve seen that lost as much blood as I have and made it.” Ski seemed almost to be challenging Max. This man was betting on his own death and daring Max to prove him wrong. It seemed a strange game to play when both were so obviously beaten down.

This challenge must have gotten Max’s blood pumping or something, because there was a fierceness in his voice when he answered, “You want me to name someone? Fine, her name is Lauren, and she is a hell of a lot tougher than you’ll ever be.”

I was startled at the sound of my name and looked into Max’s eyes. That hollow expression I had seen moments ago was replaced by a fury. “She jumped in front of a robber with a gun that was going to waste a little kid. She took a bullet that was never meant for her. She didn’t cry or whine or even complain – she just stood there looking at the guy with blood gushing out of her leg and told him to leave the kid alone. She lost half the blood in her body that night, her heart stopped, and she
did
nearly die. When the docs got her patched up they put like four pints of blood in her and she was fine. Never once did she ever say ‘
oh poor little me,’ ‘oh why is this happening to me?
’ Stop being a girl, Ski. Suck it up. We’ll be on a bird in a couple hours. You can cry to your wife about how you almost died - after they send you home. I carried your ass up this mountain; I don’t want to listen to it anymore.”

There was a silence between the two men. Max’s words to this wounded soldier sounded bitter, but it made my heart soar to know that I was on his mind right now, in this very instant, even in this most desolate of locations.

Ski reluctantly declared, “Max, I owe you my life, several times over. If we get out of here, I’ll never be able to pay you back.”

The fury in his voice had evaporated when Max answered, “You don’t owe me anything. I’m just doing my job.”

Ski snorted, “Oh that’s right, your job is definitely to ride point on a convoy; that’s where all the medics ride. Your job description also includes picking up the two-forty golf when the gunner’s wounded, hold the position for two hours until all the ammo is gone, and drag the gunner up the side of a cliff; if that isn’t enough, setting up a shelter to keep both of us from frying to death in the sun and radioing for an extraction. Were those extra classes or part of the normal curriculum for being a medic? Medic training is top notch these days. We should start sending our special ops guys to your medic training schools.”