Legacy of a Dreamer (18 page)

“No one knew who you were or where you were from. If they did, the Kajola could’ve easily tracked you.”

“Even in the Shade world, there’s such a thing as a paper trail.”

“Not if we destroy and rebuild it to our needs. We protect our own.”

Chantal glared at him. He watched her with an unrepentant expression, and that seemed to fuel her inner fire more.

“I can’t believe this!” She got up and paced back and forth in an attempt to calm down and put her thoughts in order.
 

“I believed I was from New York, which is funny considering I get a twang when I get really good and pissed, but I figured it’s just something I picked up from one of the numerous foster homes I’ve been in. I’m not even from New York, am I?”

“No, you were born and raised for nine years in a small town in California, somewhat off the beaten path.”

“And my name?” Her voice cracked. “Is Chantal even my real name?”

“Yes, your first name. Your last name is Santangelo, not Breelan.”

“Oh, of course.” Chantal laughed almost hysterically. “An Italian girl with a southern drawl. Talk about an oxymoron.”

“Chantal.”

“My whole life is a joke. One big disaster.”

“Stop.”

“I’m assuming my mother is alive, since I saw her standing over my sister’s body in those damn memories. Where is she, huh? Is she living it up somewhere? Maybe Maui or Tahiti?”

“Your mother died several years ago!” Mathias yelled. “She was murdered by a Fallen after she refused to reveal your location.”

Chantal’s legs gave out, and she sank shakily to the ground as she stared in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” Mathias said, moving closer to her for comfort. He had one massive arm wrapped around her, and this time she let him. “I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that.”

“No,” she whispered. “It’s better to just say it. I thought she was dead for a long time now, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“Do you know that I can remember how things began to fall apart? I remember my father tracing his gray skin with my tiny fingers and me asking him why he was so different from the rest of us. The lack of coloring fascinated me.”

She could still see his image in her mind as he watched her, his expression so warm and loving as he told her how special she and her sister were, how blessed. She remembered Quintus always standing guard while she played with Luanne, whispering quietly with Damon about safety and protection. Damon would play dress-up with them, acting like Luanne and Chantal were the princesses, and he was an honorable knight, practicing for when it was his turn to fight as a warrior of the Oracles.

“Luanne was only six when Damon killed her in a fit of rage and influence,” she said, the memory of Luanne’s death slamming into her all over again. “She’d been so innocent, Mathias. How could my own brother do that to our baby sister?”

He pulled her closer to him, and she laid her head on his chest. She cried and he hugged her.

“Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?” She hated that her voice sounded closer to a five-year-old than a grown woman, yet she figured, she was due for a full-fledged, all out breakdown.

“I don’t know how to answer that without lying.” His head rested on top of hers, and his blazon honesty made Chantal laugh through her tears. He didn’t shy away from her mood swings or call her out for her hysterics, but just held her through each emotion, acting as her anchor and keeping her sane when she wanted to let her mind drift away.

After several moments, she calmed a little. The fire crackled and sparked, heating the area until she felt warm and comforted. Or it might have been Mathias that created the feeling of safety and contentment, penetrating the haze of uncertainty and doubt that had chased her out of her home and into a world that didn’t make any sense. Through it all, he had been a constant, always in control. She looked up at him with watery eyes, studying the lines of his perfect face.

“Why are you here with me? Is it your job, or something more?” she asked. He’d seen her at her worst. Why not mix in a little vulnerability? She’d resolved that her feelings for Mathias had grown to more than just admiration for his heroics. Unafraid of rejection any longer, she figured she had nothing to lose.

“You know, you’re kind of like my best friend.” His response shocked her.
 

“Those nights you would sit on your bed and talk to me as Nick as if I were sitting next to you, made me feel like I knew things about you no one else did. It was easy to make a connection to you.”

“Best friend,” Chantal repeated the word, dropping her eyes back to the fire. The friend part felt like a sharp knife digging into her side. That wasn’t what she’d been aiming for, but she could understand why he saw her that way. Part of her felt inclined to agree. He had been her childhood companion and she grew up talking to him every day as her BFF, her confidant, even if it was all in her head.

For the moment, she didn’t want to press him. His chest felt warm beneath her cheek, and she could feel sleep creeping up on her, a welcomed guest amid the turmoil and doubt.

“I could easily see myself falling in love with you,” he whispered it, and he couldn’t even be sure she’d heard him right. “You’re kind and beautiful. You have an amazing heart and strength. A true warrior. Why wouldn’t I fall for you?”

“But . . .”

“But there’s a war to fight,” he said. “And those kinds of things tend to complicate and cloud the issue. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your safety by playing into something foolish.”

“Hmmm.” She didn’t want to commit either way. Part of her wanted to slap him, to tell him that if there was a chance for them to start something, why put it off? Another part of her knew that he could most likely be right. Either way, frustration and disappointment joined the mess of emotions clogging her brain. It was all very exhausting.

“Sleep,” he said, securing his comfort all around her. “I’ll watch over you.”

And she knew he would.

Chantal awoke to a ray of light shining down from the broken roof. Dust mites drifted in the air, tickling her nose, and making her rub her eyes. Mathias slept soundly beside her. Last night’s fire leaving a trail of wispy smoke brushing his beautiful face.

   
She took the opportunity to really look him over, noticing how his skin seemed to change pigments as he breathed. Everything about him remained such a mystery, but she found herself looking forward to unraveling every facet. Before, she’d worried about his feelings for her, wondering if she were alone in hers. What he’d said last night had made her more confident, and instead of stressing about it all, she figured she’d roll with the punches.
 

After she’d gotten her fill of him, Chantal investigated the room, hoping to find some food or water. In the light of day, the small church revealed nothing but more disrepair and clutter. It had obviously been left to decay long ago.

“Didn’t even have the sense to clean up after yourselves.”

Left with no other option, she went over to one of the arched windows. Several weak-looking two-by-fours blocked the outside world, but they seemed to have been tacked into place, leaving sizeable gaps between each piece.

She took in the morning sun, enjoying the sort of peace the light brought. There didn’t seem to be anything but a vast expanse of flat, brown land. There were no houses or farms as far as she could see. The vague outline of an old dirt road leading up to the building offered the lone sign that people had once ventured out this far. It’s no wonder it had been abandoned so long ago, there were no visible signs of anybody close enough to attend the church.
 

Mathias was still sleeping, one hand stretched out to where she’d lain. Knowing him, he’d probably stayed awake all night, standing guard over her until sunrise. Another reason to care for him.

Moving quietly, she continued her search. Titus had given her a plastic grocery bag filled with the bare essentials before he’d lifted the ward from her mind, and released her memories. She’d just had enough time to pull a pair of jeans out of it and slip them on before Mathias had whisked her away in the Shade. They’d timed their departure with Titus and the others perfectly, hoping that the group of fleeing warriors would offer a distraction for the creatures hunting them. Now that she’d thought of it, maybe the bag held something she could use.

Careful not to wake Mathias, Chantal made her way to the bag and found two water bottles and a couple of energy bars at the bottom. She also found a pair of toothbrushes, toothpaste, Handi-Wipes, and a change of pants for Mathias.

She went behind a broken pew and leaned against the wall to do what she could to get herself clean. She peeled the plastic sticker off the wipes and began a swift “spit job,” focusing on the parts of her body she could reach without getting completely nude, redressed, and then she brushed her teeth vigorously. When she finished, she felt somewhat normal. It’s amazing what a little TLC could do.

To pass the time, she picked up a piece of paper and tried to decipher the writing. She could see the place the altar must have been, because there was a slight shadow of a cross on the wall. No other religious artifacts could be found.

Behind one of the overturned pews, Chantal found a long, narrow stick. It looked like something a boy would find and use as a makeshift sword. She picked it up off the ground, studying it as the memories of her fight with the Seethers came back in vivid detail. It didn’t hold a candle to the strength of the metal blade, but she’d make do if she had to.

When she’d killed those creatures in the courtyard, it had felt like her body almost went on autopilot. A part of her brain seemed to be hard-wired, since her father had never taught her to fight that she could recall. Now that she had her memories back, she could remember Quintus showing Damon a thing or two, but never the girls. They’d been left to their dolls and dress-up clothes like the meek little things they were. Did her father not know that his daughter would gain the ability to fight as a warrior?

She swung it around herself, making grand circles and thrusting it into the guts of imaginary opponents. In her mind’s eye, she saw her enemy before her. Snarling fangs and evil intent, she cut the down with sure strokes, the power she’d felt before zinging through her.

She spun around to face the imaginary creature behind her, only to find Mathias standing there. She felt a little sheepish, but returned his smile, blushing at the same time.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Mathias said, gesturing toward her in encouragement. Chantal scuffed her foot on the ground, mortified and a little unsure.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said. “I feel kind of lost when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“Well, you look like a natural. Hold it out for me.”

She complied, pointing it toward him in a fencing stance, and he wrapped his large hands around the tip and pulled without warning.

“You have a good grip on your weapon,” he said as he looked from the wood to her posture, gauging how well she maintained her balance. “And you have a natural center of gravity. I’m impressed.”

“You can tell all that by just looking at me?”

“I can tell a lot by just by looking at you.” He stared at her for a moment, liquid blue eyes piercing through her. Then his expression took on a more professional demeanor. “I think it’s best if we started your training as soon as possible.”

“Training?”

“Yes. It seems that you have a natural talent. Whether it’s because all Oracles obtain this gift at your age, or it’s something inherited remains to be seen. For now, let’s focus on your baseline skill and build up from that.”

For the rest of the morning, they sparred with rustic pieces of wood. Mathias even fashioned a flat part of a pew backing to serve as a shield so Chantal could get accustomed to its feel. He told her that the greatest weapon a swordsmen could have was a good shield, and after blocking several would-be deathblows, she understood its merits.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this.” Chantal sat panting and covered in sweat. She’d already drained one full bottle of water and was working on another.

“Your body will get used to it,” Mathias said. He didn’t even sound winded after all of that. Chantal glared at him, feeling slighted in a strange way.

“Were you born with all those muscles,” she said under her breath, but Mathias heard her.

She took another sip of water, and then offered the rest to Mathias. He declined.

“Explain something to me,” she said, taking another sip. “What’s with all of this ‘sacred ground’ stuff?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I heard Lukas say that the creatures couldn’t set foot on it, but it seemed like the Kajola soldiers didn’t have any issues with it.”

“The Kajola were born from the Fallen just like we were, they’ve just chosen another path,” he said.

“Like my brother.” She felt melancholy and contemplative. Then she straightened her spine and continued with her line of questioning. “Explain to me why the creatures can’t come onto the sacred ground.”