Nightwish (An Echoes of Eternity Novel Book 1) (9 page)

“Secrets to make you shut up? Hey, I’m game. Sign me up. Otherwise…” She let that thought drift away as she took another pull from the bottle. “All right, you’ve had your entire life to get it. But you aren’t any closer to finding it than you were ten years ago.” She tipped a shoulder. “Maybe that’s why you’re a lunatic.” A few seconds later, however, she looked back at Delphine, intrigued. “You know what? I think I’ll play along. What makes you think you’ll get it anytime soon?”

An unhinged smile gripped Delphine. “Because of what happened to your grandmother. It changed things. She’s different. I can feel it. Can’t you?” She examined her daughter’s eyes. “No, of course not. You don’t believe in things you can’t see or feel.” She pointed a finger at her. “That’ll be your downfall. You don’t have faith in anything…or anyone.”

Based on the disappointment in her eyes, Alexis didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t.

Delphine contemplated her daughter. “Did you read Serena’s thoughts?”

With a boastful grin, she said, “Of course. It was
soooo
easy.” She lowered her gaze. “But she knew it. No surprise there, since you and Celestina can sense it too.” Then she considered her mother’s question.

An unsettling expression pinched Delphine’s cheeks. “That’s a good thing. Maybe you’ll be more respectful, more honorable.”

“Honorable? I’m honest. I don’t lie, and I don’t cheat. That’s a whole lot more than I can say about you.”

A slow grin spread across Delphine’s lips. “Your sister may not know about her other two abilities or how to use them, but she’s stronger than we thought.”

That comment gave Alexis pause. “I’m glad I only met her today. Otherwise, I would have hated growing up with that little twat.” She scanned the room, looking suspicious. “I think you’re right: she’s here.” Despite that statement, she looked ambivalent, inspiring an opinion that she actually didn’t know whether my spirit stood a few feet away from her. It lent the idea that she wasn’t as powerful as she’d like others to believe, that she used anger to intimidate others. In short, she was a bully.

But one question about Delphine and Alexis crowded out all others: why had two people who knew nothing about me consider me such a threat, especially since they knew more about magic than I did? Of course, they had no idea that Alexis was the firstborn child in our immediate family. Nonetheless, I didn’t want to spend any more time in their presence, which only made me think of Celestina, who would have been better off if Delphine and Alexis had taken a class in sensitivity training.

A moment later, I traveled once more, this time ending up in Celestina’s bedroom.

At least eight bright colors dotted the walls, surrounded by streaks of darker hues, lending the impression that Edvard Munch, the artist best known for his rendering of the haunting painting, “The Scream,” had risen from the dead to complete one last image because he was inspired by the color schemes used to create the world of Rainbow Brite. It lent the impression that the light in Celestina was overshadowed by the darkness in her Delphine and Alexis. Across from a dresser stood a cherry nightstand upon which a summer breeze-scented candle flickered. Beside it, an oversized rocking chair held the stuffed animals, Clifford the Big Red Dog and Corduroy, the teddy bear. Now I understood why Alexis considered her daughter immature.

My niece lay in bed, reading from an iPad. She took in a deep breath as though someone had placed smelling salts under her nose, forcing her to awaken, her eyes bright and wide. She crooked an elbow on her pillow and scanned the room. She caught sight of me and smiled. “Hey, Aunt Serena.” She rubbed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“You can see me?” I asked, shocked.

“Of course. But I didn’t hear you come in my room.”

“That’s because I didn’t. I’m not really here.”

“But I see you. So you have to be here.”

“I’m here, but I’m not.” I watched confusion cloud her face. “I’m actually sleeping in my house. But I missed you, so I wanted to visit.”

A smile developed on Celestina’s face. “I missed you too, but you’re right by my bed. Sort of like how great granny Sykes came over yesterday.”

“My spirit is with you. But my body’s not.” I didn’t know how else to describe that. “Does that make sense?”

A big grin came over her. She tossed the tablet onto her Wonder Woman blanket and sat up against the headboard. “Of course. How come I only met you today? Why didn’t we meet when I was little?” Her brows knitted together. “You’re family, right? So why not?”

“I don’t know.” A piece of my heart broke off and drifted toward her. It was great to feel responsible for this little treasure. “I always wanted someone I could confide in.” Even though I’d barely spoken to Celestina, I knew without a doubt that I could trust her. Not only that, but I had the uncanny sensation that I could trust her even more than Grams. As much as I wanted to fight that feeling, I couldn’t ignore it, so I didn’t give it another thought.

“So you’re Mom’s sister?”

“Yeah.”

“You…won’t hurt her, will you?”

That put a fright through my mind. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I saw it in one of my visions,” said Celestina. “I saw you hurting Mom. And I saw Mom hurting you.” Her eyes shimmered with tears. “I don’t want you two to get hurt.” She bent her knees to her chest.

That this sweet child cared about me without really knowing me cemented my feelings for her. I wanted to envelop her in a tight embrace. But since I existed in non-corporeal form, I simply knelt by her bed, not even feeling my knees on the ground.

“Why were we doing that?”

Celestina removed her gaze from mine. She just shook her head.

“Then I won’t hurt her then, okay?”

Celestina, head slung low, remained quiet for a long time. “Yes, you will. I wish you wouldn’t…but you will.”

I hated the morbidity and certainness in her voice. And the way she refused to look at me persuaded me to trust her foresight. I’m sure she had enough experience with prophecies to know which ones came true.

“Aunt Serena, would you—”

The door burst open. Delphine and Alexis tramped into the room, scanning the area. Delphine said, “Have you seen Aunt Serena?”

Celestina drew back. “No. I couldn’t find my iPad.” She reached over and grabbed it. “Until now.” She flicked her gaze to Alexis. “Hey, Mom. I just watched
The Wizard of Oz
. It was awesome! Are you like Glinda, the Good Witch of the North?”

“Of course,” she said, disinterested, looking around the room.

I doubted that, since she’d said only moments ago that she’d “end me.”

Celestina had a downcast expression. No doubt, she fell in with my line of thought. Then her eyes grew bright. “Oh, that’s right: you asked about Aunt Serena. I like her. She’s fun.”

“Fun?” asked Alexis, nearing the bed, standing beside me. “Why fun? What makes her fun?”

“I don’t know. But she is. I can feel it.” She looked at Alexis intently. “She loves you. Did you know that?”

Alexis stared at her daughter with mistrust. “That’s ridiculous! Why would you say that?”

Celestina shrugged. “Because I felt it.” She sighed, looking sad. “I don’t think she has a family.” She looked up at her mother. “But I think she wants one. And now she’s part of our family.”

“Of course,” said Alexis, sitting down beside her daughter and brushing her hair back with her fingers.

“Don’t be mean to her, okay? I don’t want her to hurt you.”

Alexis drew back. “You think she’s going to hurt me?” She turned and met her mother’s gaze before returning to Celestina. “Have you seen Aunt Serena since we left her earlier tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think she might be in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Celestina met my gaze. “Why? How? Did she do something wrong?”

“Yes,” Delphine said. She made her way to the other side of the bed. “She doesn’t want to be in our family.”

“But that’s not true.”

Alexis released her daughter’s hand and looked to her mother before setting her attention on her daughter again. “Why do you say that?”

“Because,” said Celestina with a smile. “I can just tell.”

Alexis’s frown turned uncertain as Delphine stepped forward, thrusting an arm forth across her daughter’s chest, making her take a step back. “Why? How can you tell? Did you see her tonight? A few minutes ago?”

Celestina met my eyes. Then she lowered her gaze. “No.”

“You’re lying.” Delphine stepped forth and grabbed Celestina’s left cheek, shaking it firmly in hand. “Tell me the truth. You saw her, didn’t you? Don’t lie to me.”

“Yes.”

“She was here a minute ago?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it!” said Delphine. “This isn’t good.”

Alexis ignored her mother, choosing to pay attention to her daughter instead. “What did she want? Did she say?”

“No.” Celestina tried but failed to shrug off her grandmother’s hand. “Granny…you’re hurting me.”

“She didn’t say anything? She didn’t want anything from you? She didn’t want anything from us?”

“No.” She cringed. “But you’re hurting me. Please stop.”

Watching my niece in pain, seeing these two adults prod her for answers, I rushed to my feet, ran over to the opposite side of the bed, and tried to slap my mother’s face.

A gust of air blew across her cheek. Delphine staggered back as though struck. The disturbance made her release her granddaughter. “That was her! She’s still here.” With a horrified expression, she glanced back at her Alexis.

Delphine stepped forward, disregarding her offspring. Instead, she closed her eyes and lifted her chin. A moment later, she turned to the side, opened her eyes, and stared right at me. “Hello, Serena.”

I tottered on my heels. I felt naked, exposed. Could she really see me?

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I don’t want anything,” I told Celestina. “Please tell them.”

“She doesn’t want anything,” Celestina repeated.

Alexis set her eyes on Delphine. “What do you think?”

“She’s being manipulative. She’s trying to get in Celestina’s good graces.”

I stood there, wondering what would make either of them think that I had bad intentions.

“She…she cares,” said Celestina, shrinking under both her mother and grandmother’s gazes.

“Why do you say that?” asked Delphine.

“Yeah, what makes you think that?” Alexis asked. About to reach out to her daughter, but thinking better of it, she retracted her hand.

Celestina shook her head. “I don’t know. But I know she cares about us. All of us. Can’t you feel it?”

Delphine stared at her for a long moment. Then she drew in a deep breath through her nose and let out a skeptical chuckle. “I don’t believe you.” A frown lined her lips.

“But she does. Why would I lie?”

In that moment, I felt that my spiritual presence made life more difficult for Celestina, and since I didn’t want her to suffer any more emotional abuse, I turned a smile on her. “I should go. I’ll see you again soon, okay?”

She just stared at me, hopeful but also distrustful.

“Please trust me,” I said, hating the hesitant expression that surely sprung from a life of cynicism that came naturally after living with Alexis and Delphine. “I’ll be back.”

Celestina released a breath and a fleeting smile appeared before vanishing.

I focused on returning to my body. Within a second, I found myself zapped back into familiar territory. I woke up to find Zephora’s face mere inches from mine, those unblinking eyes staring into mine.

Disoriented, I jerked up in bed, but not enough to make her back off. I glanced in either direction, half expecting her to have tied my arms to the bedpost. But she hadn’t.

“Well, hello, darling. Pleasant travels, I presume?”

“Huh?” I asked, propping myself up under the pillow. I didn’t know how to allay the woman’s fears, whatever they might be. “I don’t even know what happened.”

“You have discovered how to astral project.” A grin made her cheeks rise. “You
are
special.” Her tone carried a cryptic quality. “But not as special as you think.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

When Zephora left my room moments later, I knew why she’d taken over Grams’s body: to gain control of it, so she could once more try to rule the world. But if she admitted that I was special (and who knows what her twisted mind meant by that), why hadn’t she killed me? Even if I barely understood how to astral project, I still didn’t know what other abilities I had. Also, if she were so threatened by my gifts, wouldn’t it make sense for her to kill me to prevent any sort of opposition?

What if she tried to remove my abilities while I slept? If I was astral projecting, I wouldn’t even know her intentions, similar to how I had no clue she hunched over me while my spirit visited Delphine, Alexis, and Celestina. I could lock my bedroom door, but would that keep out a sorceress? I doubted it. The idea of waking…to find Zephora hunching over me again made my heart pound.

For that reason, I snuck out of my window:  a first for me. I’d never needed to do so before tonight. Grams and I always had an honest relationship, one that had transformed from a parent-to-child rapport into a kinship based on friendship and mutual respect. The change occurred when Grams realized that our roles had flipped once I’d begun taking care of her.

During her moments of clarity, I trusted her advice and guidance, but when she found herself lost, she relied on me for those same responsibilities. It gave me more leeway and allowed me to mature quicker than many recent college graduates. Granted, growing up, I’d envied kids who had parents (or even just one parent), but having recently met my birth mother, I now realized that I couldn’t have had a better role model than Grams.

In hopes that I might see Kendall and Brandon at a bar called
Velocity
, one of our favorite hangouts, I drove over and was glad to find them seated at a cocktail table toward the back of the packed bar. Thankfully, I hadn’t made it to
Intensity
earlier this evening. I couldn’t hold my liquor as well as either of them, and if I had, I probably would have finished celebrating hours ago.

“Thought you were going to blow us off,” Brandon shouted. His high-pitched voice was barely audible from loud customer chatter and clinking glasses at the two dozen tables. Classic rock music blared from the overhead sound system. A black curtain on the opposite end of the room screened a sloped platform where bands, comedians, and other artists performed most nights of the week.

A slow-forming grin took shape on Brandon’s sun-tanned face. His almond-colored eyes tried to focus while holding a topped off mug of beer steady. It accidentally titled in his hand, and even though some alcohol tipped onto the floor, he overlooked the mistake.  “Hey, college grad!”

“Hey, guys,” I said, taking a seat beside my two best friends. They often had a love-hate relationship: they loved to hate each other…when they had been drinking. Otherwise, Kendall just plain loved Brandon, while he remained oblivious of her affection.

“How does it feel being the smartest person at this table?” Brandon asked.

“Speak for yourself,” said Kendall, only a speech impediment made her mangle the word ‘yourself’ into ‘yourgshelf.’ She tucked some of her shoulder-length dark hair behind an ear.

“I thought I just did,” he replied.

“So you don’t remember? Or you aren’t sure?” Kendall had fleeting emotions and mannerisms, which made it difficult for people to get a handle on her temperament at any given time. Whether she smiled or frowned, complimented or criticized, people often had the same response after meeting her: they headed in the other direction. But if they took the time to look past this characteristic, they would have found a trusting, loyal, and intelligent woman with a wicked sense of humor.

I watched Brandon giving great deliberation to Kendall’s sarcasm, as though he’d been tasked with answering a question on a television game show. He shrugged, lifted his mug of beer to his mouth, and took a few big gulps.

With great concern, probably only because Brandon wasn’t watching her, Kendall swiveled to address her unrequited love interest. “You’ve killed more brain cells drinking tonight than…” She trailed off because he slammed down the half-empty mug. “…than you even have. Did you borrow some or something? Maybe pick-up a few on layaway at Walmart?”

“You don’t remember? Oh, I guess that makes sense. You were selling a thousand brain cells for a buck, so I placed a large order.”

“You see that?” Kendall asked me with a short-lived smile. “A large order! Because I’ve got big brains.” She unfurled her arms and extended them wide. “They’re huge!”

“Actually,” Brandon said, “I only ordered two-bucks-worth. The rest malfunctioned.”

“That’s funny because all the women you date say the same thing about your balls.”

“Yeah, I tried to return those rusty brain cells,” he said, ignoring her comment. He pointed to her head. “But the lights were out. I’m guessing all the corrosion up there blew a fuse. Understandable, but still: I deserve a refund.”

“This from a man whose women say they’d prefer to have ‘Minute Maid’ instead of ‘Minute Man.’”

“So, Brandon,” I said, already exhausted by their back-and-forth. “You said we’d want to see this band.” I took a seat across from Kendall. “What should we be looking for?”

He grinned. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

I didn’t want to get caught by surprise again today, but I knew better than to question him. He would only grow more obstinate.

“What’s wrong?” Kendall asked me, sliding a red fingernail across the tip of an untouched glass of Cosmo. “You had two milestones today: graduation and you can drink legally. You should look happy or relieved, but you look flustered and frustrated.” She reached out and placed a palm over my knuckles. “What’s gives?”

That comforting quality between us had existed since middle school, and it had never faltered. I loved Grams more than anyone did, but only Kendall could see through my defenses with such ease and get me to lower them with such ease. I’m certain that her emotional astuteness derived from having suffered countless insults about her speech impediment while growing up.

We’d met in sixth grade when I’d walked into the girls’ bathroom and found five girls standing around her in a circle laughing and taunting her while Kendall stood ramrod straight, chin held high, enduring the abuse without blinking or even swallowing. She just stood there trying to act unaffected. When they saw me, the girls encouraged me to join them, but when they had torn their attention away from the object of their abuse, Kendall turned toward me with so much emotion in her expression: fear, shame, embarrassment, and above all, exhaustion…from the torment kids heaped on her day-after-day. I saw a pleading look as tears built in her eyes so quickly that they soon spilled onto her cheeks. In that moment, seeing another person so fragile, yet so damaged, I vowed to do everything in my power to prevent the girls from learning that they had broken Kendall. If they saw the defeated look in her eyes, they would own her, and Kendall would fight each day to reclaim whatever spirit she’d once had. When I didn’t respond to their encouragement, they planned to swing their attention back to Kendall, but I dropped a hand on the shoulders of two girls and pinched their nerves, drawing shrieks of pain and forcing them to their knees. The excitement made the other girls back away in shock before screaming at me to leave their friends alone. Only after agreeing to do so, did they rush out of the restroom. Ever since that day, I always had Kendall’s constant support. Over the years, we’d leaned on each other in times of weakness or indecision, and we always came out stronger afterwards.

Now I smiled at Kendall. “You’ll both find out soon enough. But I’ll need something to take the edge off.” I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea from a server. Since Brandon and Kendall were a few months older than I was, I couldn’t join them at bars or clubs until now, but I’d occasionally had a couple glasses of wine with Kendall at the tiny apartment she shared with Brandon.

Upon hearing my requested beverage, my friends exchanged glances before turning their attention to me. Brandon scratched the skull-and-bones tattoo on his muscular bicep, while Kendall did her best to catch a glimpse of his masculinity without giving away how much she adored him. I’d always worried about her long-term (going on four years) affection for a man who never thought of her as more than a best friend. Toss in his inclination to bring women home (and that the walls in their apartment were too thin), their friendship could only end in disaster. I was naive to think their relationship wouldn’t destroy our band. But that hadn’t happened. Yet!

“If you
need
a drink, you probably shouldn’t drink it,” Brandon said, always a little overprotective of me since we’d met.

“Oh, I’m not doing it for me,” I said with a chuckle. “It’s for Kendall.” She looked askance at me. “I need to talk, and you’ll need something heavier than what you’ve got going on in that glass. Otherwise, you won’t believe a word I say.”

A quick smile came over her face, perhaps because the drink cost more than her Cosmo and promised a stronger buzz, or maybe because she hoped to hear a salacious story. It was probably a combination of both. She gladly slid the Cosmo my way.

“Thanks,” I said, tipping the glass to my lips and taking a sip. I enjoyed the slight burn as it traveled down my throat and into my chest.

Kendall pulled out a pocketsize spiral-bound notebook and a pen. “If this is as juicy as I think it is, I’ll want to remember this, and with that drink you ordered, I may not remember anything you tell me tomorrow.” She raised the notebook. “So, now I’ve got back-up.”

Brandon stopped scanning the bar for women and, after taking another gulp of beer, put his mug down. “Give it up,” he said, grinning at the sexual innuendo.

I spent the next fifteen minutes telling them almost everything that had happened tonight, after which I needed ten more minutes to answer their questions. “So, what do you think?”

Kendall lowered her empty glass to the table and looked down at her pad. “Yep, think I got it all.”  She nodded, but her skull jittered back and forth like a bobble-head. Obviously, the alcohol hit her hard.

I felt guilty for encouraging her to drink so much, but I needed her to consider a concept that few would believe without leaving their inhibitions behind. “Well?” I asked them, eager for their opinions.

“About you being a witch?” asked Brandon.

“Or that you suddenly have a mother, sister, and niece?” asked Kendall.

“I came here thinking we’d be celebrating your birthday,” Brandon said. “And maybe talk about finding a guitarist for the band. But this…” His words trailed off and he looked dazed. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“You’re freaked out,” I said. “That makes sense. I guess if—”

“You’re joking, right?” he asked, a huge grin making dimples stand out in his cheeks. “It’s awesome! I want super powers. I want super speed. Hell, I’d pay for that. Where’s an ATM?” He grew more serious, moving closer to me. “But there’s one thing…I want to get turned by a female vampire.” His smile blossomed again. “That would be
so
hot!”

“Unbelievable,” Kendall said, tossing a hand in the air with frustration. “I can’t believe you. You’re obsessed with women. Obsessed! Why can’t you just find one? Don’t you want to settle down?”

“Are you kidding? I’m twenty-one. I need to experience what life has to offer. Every great artist relies on experience to spark his creativity.”

“What creativity? You don’t write our music. Serena and I do. And she writes the lyrics. So what creativity are you talking about? Slamming a couple sticks onto a drum kit? Unless you’re part of the Blue Man Group, I’m confused big time!”

“Are you forgetting about all the artwork I’ve created?” Brandon asked. “Or that I’m an amazing photographer?”

Each of us had particular talents that would enhance our band’s popular appeal. Brandon created spectacular artwork that corresponded to the lyrics and emotions our band evoked on records and on stage. Eventually, we planned to highlight his artwork on T-shirts, coffee mugs, posters, and other memorabilia that would allow fans to identify with the band.

When I inducted Kendall and Brandon into our band a few years ago, I declared Business as my major, while Kendall majored in marketing and public relations. We’d agreed to use our skills to further the interests of the band, considering that many managers, agents, and record labels often reaped financial benefits without the band any the wiser. We wanted to buck that trend because we couldn’t afford to get ripped off. Now, we just needed a lead guitarist. Over the past two years, we’d tried out more than a dozen guitarists but eventually settled on none of them. We couldn’t find anyone who had the technical prowess and stage presence to command a following, much less an individual who could add his skills in the writing and recording process.

“How many songs are on the radio without a drummer?” Brandon asked. “None. You know why? Because you need my rhythm and timing to keep the songs you write from falling off the tracks.”

As if on cue, a drumbeat pounded on stage, drawing a few shouts and claps from the audience. Then the bassist started into the same few notes, giving his instrument a low rumble.

“We’re here to see the musician who isn’t onstage yet.” Brandon said. He winked at me. “You can thank me a little later.”