The Compass (2 page)

Ali felt the bottom of her world fall out beneath her. Whoa, they had taken a sharp turn into the twilight zone. He shouldn’t’ve been able to gain those records. Her achievements—in her opinion, weren’t that spectacular. That sensation of being watched intensified, and blended with the building headache. Looking into the detective’s eyes, she noted that they weren’t as sharp as they had been before; there was cloudiness there, like he had become a different person. What the—her instincts were screaming at her to get out of there. Her next words were chosen carefully. “I’m not sure what that has to do with my business, detective, or the man in the picture.” She watched his eyes, looking for what—she really didn’t know. Then, like a switch, the strangeness of the detective’s eyes vanished. But it did little in the way of calming her.

The atmosphere of the room changed. All friendly-like vibes, fake or other-wise, disappeared. The temperature fluctuated. Her mouth became dry, forcing her to take a sip of water. The liquid helped to ease the itchy parchedness of her throat. It felt like the walls were closing in her. The shrewdness was back in his gaze; Ali knew he was done dancing around. He started telling her the specifics, going back to the original reason she had been asked to come down.

“This guy worked in the mailroom of Howard Enterprises, a client of yours. Like you, he also liked to move from company to company. He had several false insurance claims in his apartment—ready to be submitted. In order to do that, he would need someone—like say, an insurance investigator, to beat the system. He makes a fraudulent claim, brings it to his inside man—or in this case, woman, and they pass it through as being legit. The guy gets his money and his cohort gets a nice roll of dough. I find it funny, how you and he ended up working for the same company.”

The allegation hit her like a ton of bricks. “You think I am in a partnership with this man?” An all too familiar buzz rang in her ears, as her temper sparked to life. Forgetting about how this whole thing was messed up, of how just moments ago, the detective looked like he’d been in a daze, she responded, “I was told that I would need to answer some questions, now I think I should be thinking of a lawyer.”

The detective wasn’t affected with the threat. “Insurance fraud is a very lucrative business,” he closed the file, slid it to one side “Your company, staff of one, has an impressive track record. That tells me that you’re an intelligent woman. However, a chance to walk away with a large sum of money would be hard to resist, New York is a very pricy city to live in.”

Ali rubbed her hands up and down her jean clad thighs, over and over. Her body was tight, the pressure in her head increased. The urge to bolt and the knowledge she couldn’t, added to her unease. It took great effort to sound flippant when all she wanted to do was scream. Her system was shrieking, and it was becoming hard to remain unaffected by what he was saying. She needed to get home, her safety zone. “I have never cheated anyone out of money, and if someone approached me with a plan to do so, I would report it.”

The detective stood up and began to pace the room. “Put yourself in my place Miss Hayes. This guy knew you were working for the same company as he was, yet you say you don’t know him. A couple of weeks go by and this case comes across my desk, and then, I find you. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

His theory was ridiculous, but Ali kept her mouth shut. Her brain however, was firing on all cylinders. She took another glance at the photo. There had to be a piece missing to this puzzle. Detective Ballen’s voice filtered through, yanking her attention back to him.

“You figure, hey, why not? You breeze into the office of your employer, bat your lashes, flip your hair a few times, wave some sort of magic, and voila!—the claim is processed. You and your partner get a nice fee.” He brushed his hands together as if dusting them off. Then, coming back to his chair, he grasped the back of it and leaned forward. “How am I doing? Am I getting close to the truth?”

Her heart was racing, and her eyes stung with the need to let the building tears flow. Anger edged in alongside her fear, warring for supremacy. However, losing her temper would just make thing worse. He was certain that she knew this man—and nothing she could say would convince him otherwise.

A knock sounded at the door before it opened and other man came through. Ali watched with weary eyes, as the other man gave Detective Ballen a warning look. Then, while maintaining eye contact with him, he spoke to her. “Miss Hayes, thank you for your time.”

Shocked, and more than grateful for the reprieve, Ali stared at him incredulously. “I’m free to go?”

The man turned his head and gave her a remorseful smile. “Yes, and please accept my apology on behalf of the precinct.”

But detective Ballen wasn’t willing to give in. He gave his chair a shove, causing it to hit the table, making Ali jump. “Now wait just a minute, I’m not done here.”

Ali watched in fascination as the other man, she surmised that he was higher in rank than detective Ballen, shut him down. “You are. There’s no case here—nothing to suggest a partnership between the suspect and Miss Hayes. She lives in a one room apartment, doesn’t own a car, and her wardrobe doesn’t exactly scream Chanel.” He shot her a quick, apologetic glance. “No offence ma’am.”

Thankful neither man could see her footwear, Ali smiled—the only spark of humor in this situation. She couldn’t imagine that either man would recognise the Jimmy Choos she had splurged on. “None taken, and, if that’s all, I need to get home.” She was getting while the getting was good.

Ballen opened his mouth to protest, but he was stopped with a look from his superior. While he was still staring at his detective, the man spoke to Ali again. “Can we call you a cab Miss Hayes? It’s looking pretty dark out there—a storm’s moving in.”

Ali appreciated the man’s attempt to smooth over the situation. “No, I could use the walk. But thank you.” Standing, Ali slipped on her ‘non Chanel’ jacket, pulling her hair out from the collar to let it tumble down her back. She gathered up her bag, and then gave detective Ballen a cool stare. “If you have other questions for me, you know where to find me. I definitely know where to find you.” She sent a silent prayer that their paths never crossed again. Skirting around the table, she kept her head down, trying not to hear the harsh whispers between the two men as she passed.

Outside the room, the precinct bustled with activity, and though no one had noticed her emergence, Ali felt that they were all staring at her. She made her way to the front doors. Once outside, she dragged in a deep breath. The air was muggy and heavy with the impending storm. The rumble of thunder, followed by fat drops of rain, had her looking up, blinking as raindrops landed on her face. She took notice that the sky had gotten dark—scary dark. Another rumble and a soft flash of lightening had her forgetting the walk. She flagged down a cab.

Sliding into the back seat, Ali rambled off her address to the driver, and then rested her head against the seat, turning so she could watch the sky out the window. What the hell had that been all about? It certainly wasn’t about the mystery man. The one thing—the only thing she agreed with the detective on, was that there were no coincidences. However, between the migraines returning, her mother, and the detective, she was emotionally spent and really didn’t have the energy to decipher what any of it meant. The chaotic driving of the cabby soothed rather than terrified her, and soon, she felt her eyes begin to droop.

Alina—it is time.

Her eyes flew open and she glanced around the cab. The voice had been faint and broken up, but was—familiar. Bile rose up in her throat—no, it couldn’t be.

I need you daughter.

Air whooshed out of her lungs. It was
her!
But that was impossible! It had been
years
since she had last heard that voice. Forcing herself to remain calm, Ali waited for her building to appear. When the driver pulled up to the curb, she didn't wait. She shoved some bills into the pay slot and shot out of the cab as though the devil himself was after her. Her head pounded rapidly, her heart, kept pace. Her breath hitched as she tried to draw air into her lungs.

Racing for the building, digging blindly for her keys, Ali charged through the glass doors, and flew up the steps to her apartment, no way was she waiting for the ancient elevator. Her hands shook as she fought to get the key into the lock. Nearly falling through the doorway, Ali closed, and then leaned against the door. Her entire body was shaking.

Alina—it has begun. Remember, daughter—remember your path—find your sisters.

“No, no, no! You don't exist! Leave me alone!” She rushed through the apartment, and did what she could to drown out the noise building up inside of her. She turned on the TV, the radio; in the kitchen, she turned on the small CD player she had. Soon the small space was filled with noise. Covering her ears, Ali slid to the floor and hunkered down to wait.

The exterior noise did a fair job at keeping the voice from dominating her mind. Soon, there was nothing but the horrible mixture of news, top 40, and Beethoven. Rubbing her hand over her face, Ali got up and shut everything off. She was still shaking.

Refusing to believe this was a relapse; she made her way to the bathroom. A dose of her meds would fix this. The woman had called her daughter, told her to remember her path, to find her sisters. Snorting out a breath of derision, Ali popped two pills into her mouth. Leaving the bathroom, she headed to her bedroom, crawled onto her bed, and waited for the fog to gather in her head.

She didn't have sisters. But, if someone was lost, she had to find them—didn't she? She could find anything—even if it didn't want to be found. Dr. Ward’s voice came to her then, telling her to breathe deeply, to let her mind float as if in water. Ali latched on to his voice. Peace. To her, he represented peace, even though it had been a long time since she had last seen him. Her body slowly relaxed. One by one, her thoughts were extinguished.

Alina—you mustn't go!

The cry was faint, and she struggled to turn towards it, but the doctor stopped her with more words of peace. Deep inside, Ali felt a deep sadness—but it wasn't hers. She tried to get the woman to understand.
I’m sorry—I am not who you think me to be.
The sorrow that filled her was so heavy, Ali struggled for breath. Just when she thought she would be crushed by it, it was gone. Her eyes fluttered closed and she waited for the darkness, to welcome it like a long lost lover.

                                                        *****

The sky lit up in rage—lightning, charging it with its own fury. Rain punished the land relentlessly. Below the bedlam, two figures battled one another. The fate of all worlds hung in the balance.

“You will fail Agrona. Surrender now and I shall grant you mercy.”

“It is you who will fail Mikel—you and your army are no match for the Light.”

The Dark Sorcerer threw back his head and laughed—the sound vibrating throughout the realms, causing those who heard it, to shudder in fear of what was to come. They had placed their trust in the war goddess Agrona. Surely, if there was one to stop him, it was her. Yet, there was an uncertainly felt, and darkness was slowly swallowing up the light.

“My daughters will be victorious, they will unite, and they will defeat you!”

“You were one of my greatest accomplishments Agrona—such promise. You've placed the balance in the hands of mortals—the Star will not be able to hide from me, I have made sure of it.”
Mikel stuck hard at his former student and was surprised by her strength.

“You underestimate the power of the mortal heart Mikel—that will be your undoing. My warriors will unite the Star and your reign of terror will be done—you will no longer exist!”

His rage knew no bounds. With a mighty roar, he sent a blast of dark magic at her, but again she was ready. But her defection left her open and Mikel wasted no time, his voice rose in a chant, and he casted his spell. His twisted mind reveled in her cry of anguish as she was sent into a deep slumber. Standing over her still body, he continued to rage at her. “I chose to spare your life—me! The greatest sorcerer of all! Your life is in my hands, Agrona, goddess of war.”

Cries of dismay and defeat rent the air, and Mikel soaked it all in. Now nothing stood in his way. He would travel to earth’s dimension and he will find the five who hid the Fragments.

Chapter Two

The sky was charged with the kind of energy that only brought bad news, and Finn O’Shea knew it. He could feel the power within it. Too bad he couldn’t tell where, or who, the power was coming from. Standing in front of a seamless line of windows; barefoot, wearing jeans and an old t-shirt, he observed the powerful storm, his eyes taking in every nuance.

The wind whipped at his home, pounding at the weathered brick of the converted factory. The glass rippled from the force of each gust, demanding him to respond. Placing his palms against the cool surface, he closed his eyes and opened himself to the energies that lay outside. For a moment, there was nothing, he wasn’t surprised. This was not his area of expertise. Yet, something told him that he must connect. He tried again.

Voices replaced the silence, whispering along the currents of the airstream. Shock jolted his system, but he recovered quickly. Concentrating, he tried to separate them. Focussing his energy, he tried to cleave clear information. His head pounded with his efforts to try to decipher what was tangled in the wind. Resting his forehead in-between his hands, he pushed his mind—demanding it to heed to his wishes.

But all that did was scramble the voices, turning them into static. The intonations were choppy and unintelligible. Cursing, Finn pushed off the window and clenched his hands into fists. He wanted to drive a fist through the glass. Something was out there. It was in the wind, in the garbled static. Raking his hands through the length of his hair in agitation, he began to pace.

If what was hidden those currents was so damn important, what could be gained by mocking him? Somebody obviously wanted him to receive the message, but they had seriously mucked things up, “Bloody hell.” He ran a hand over his face, before lacing his fingers together at the back of his head and lifting his gaze to the ceiling. He was an immortal warrior—not a bloody interpreter. Whenever he needed something settled, he did so with his blade, and up until now, it was all that he needed. Yet, this was different, but why now—why this night? He uttered another curse and landed a punch to the wall closest to him. In no way did it solve his dilemma, but he gained a grain of satisfaction. He felt a stirring in his mind.

Having problems cousin?

Finn’s smile was instant despite his foul mood. Cian, fellow warrior as well as his only kin, was a welcome distraction. It didn’t surprise him in the least that he had felt his aggravation.
Nothing I can’t handle.

The lie rolled off his tongue with ease. But Finn knew that Cian wasn’t so easily fooled. Older than him by a couple of years, Cian had been raised more of a brother to him than a cousin.
Uh huh, what do you feel?

Though they shared a mental link, common for all immortals, the two men were set apart by their choices. Where he had chosen the blade, Cian had chosen the path of magick as well as the sword. This made it difficult at times for them to truly be connected. His cousin may
feel
that there was something amiss, he couldn’t necessarily know the
cause
. Sighing, Finn went back to the window. He wasn’t much for explanations, especially ones that only promised to further confuse.
This storm, it’s not entirely natural. It has concentrated its power on my home.
There was a pause. Finn turned away from the raging storm, and once again began to pace.

I assume you tried to—read this wind?

With his laugh forced and harsh, Finn answered.
After years of idleness, to have this happen, it was the first thing I did. I heard voices at first. But when I pushed harder, they turned into static.

Another pause—it was longer than the last. Finn felt his defences rise up. He stopped in the middle of the room, his hands clenched at his sides. But before he could respond, Cian spoke.

Something has changed—I too have felt a shift in the air. But I’ve not experienced anything as you are now. There comes a time when the blade is not enough. You may have forsaken your legacy, but it doesn’t mean it has completely vanished. That you’re able to sense anything in the wind suggests that what’s inside of you demands to be acknowledged.

Finn bristled at the censure he heard in his cousin’s voice. The last thing he wanted—or needed was Cian acting as his conscience. His own voice took on a hard edge of warning.
Don’t go there cousin.

As always, his cousin was unaffected.
Someone has to. The time will come when you will be forced to make a choice Finn. The darkness that decimated our world is now here, in earth’s realm. This respite we’ve been having is simply a tactic, giving our enemy time to regroup, all the while keeping us on edge—waiting.

Mikel and his army will use everything at their disposal to gain the Fragments; to use the magick within them to topple the balance. We’ve seen more than enough proof of this with each battle. Three of the five realms are already under his control—and the Light is weakening in the remaining two—one of those realms being our home. We took an oath cousin—to gain the Fragments, to unite them at all costs. Agrona placed her faith in us. Her sacrifice cannot be in vain.

Irritated at the mention of their enemy’s name, and the reminder of the promise given, Finn fired back.

Perhaps our leader should’ve considered the ramifications of her actions before severing our world’s most powerful vessel, turning the pieces into human souls—female souls. And, to ensure our complete focus, she tied those women to each of us.
He regretted the words immediately. Given the state their world had been in, Agrona had made the only choice available to her at the time.
I am well aware of what we’re up against and what must be done—go bother the others.

He felt Cian’s desire to push, but thankfully, he chose not to.
As you wish cousin. Call if you need assistance with your wind.

Cian closed the connection, leaving Finn to stew over his situation. He had boasted to his cousin that he could handle it, but he wasn’t so sure he could. Those who chose to wield magick always tended to complicate matters. He much preferred the power and simplicity of his sword. The stakes however, were high.

A snap of energy had him rushing back to the window. Though the sky still churned with the storm, and the wind continued to beat at his home, this energy had separated itself from the commotion. Pulled by instinct, he once again placed his hands on the glass. He slowed down his heartbeat, took in deep, slow breaths and closed his eyes. He didn’t know why he was attempting this again, but he couldn’t resist the urge to try.

Everything around him melted away. His body felt light, a tingling sensation danced along his skin, awareness had his nostrils flaring. Slicing through the storm was fear, sadness and pain. It beckoned to him, demanding that he answer it, and without thought—he complied. He fused with the energy via the mental link used by immortals.

It was a pathway he had no idea existed. It zigged and zagged through the currants of the storm. The maze of the connection was fraught with intense emotions. As he continued his pursuit, Finn sent a message to Cian as a precaution. He had no idea what he was following, only that he needed to. However, if he encountered problems, having his cousin at the ready would ensure that he could get out. His heart raced as he followed the trail. His mind, not used to such exertion, struggled under the strain, pressure built in his head.

Then, like a bright flash of light, the trail exploded open, and in the center of the glittering splinters of it, was the energy of a—mortal? How was this possible? To be able to connect to him—to an immortal, be it on purpose, or by accident, one would have to possess abilities—magick. In the back of his mind came a whisper, telling him that he knew the reason. Finn brushed it aside, he didn’t know if this was a man or a woman. Besides, he would know her—the mortal linked to him. However, his confidence on knowing that, began to shake. There wasn’t time to analyse; he needed to concentrate on the task at hand. Though it was a mental discovery, he was physically assaulted by it. His breath halted, and his lungs burned with the need for air. His large body shook with his efforts to maintain the connection. Feeling it slip away, he bore down, his hands clenched in tight fists. He needed to figure out who this individual was, and how they had been able to reach him.

Pull back! You cannot hold this connection.

Finn ignored Cian’s order and pushed himself further, desperate disbelief, fuelling his persistence. As he drew closer, he could hear a soft cry—it was the cry of a woman. For the first time since discovering the link, hesitation had him stopping. This could be a trick, and by continuing, he could be leading goddess knew what back to him—to Cian. However, the cries of the woman pulled at his heart, and he found that he couldn’t leave without helping her. He felt Cian’s displeasure, but again, he ignored him. With his energy draining, Finn moved quickly, pushed harder. His speed and persistence alerted the woman, and he felt her energy surround her in defence.

Who are you—you shouldn’t be here.

All of his training, all of the battles he had faced, had not prepared him for the effect her voice had on him. Husky and soft, her words wrapped around him and squeezed. Emotions rose up within him, elation, contentment, possessiveness; they swirled through him, spilling along the pathway to the woman. He felt her shrink back from him. He scrambled to waylay her retreat. He added hint of compulsion in his voice, urging her to trust him.
I won’t hurt you, allow me to help you.

The pathway was rapidly crumbling now. Finn regrouped and tried to keep it open. The sadness of the woman weighed his heart down. As she faded, she thanked him for his offer.
Thank you, but the medicine has kicked in. Soon, I will fall asleep. You’re just a dream, just like the woman.

Finn struggled to close the distance, he wasn’t finished. His head exploded in pain, ripping a shout from him—he heard the echoing response from the woman.

Please, leave me alone—I’m done with crazy.

Like the beach at high tide, waves of fog washed away the connection. Finn shouted in his mind, demanding that it stay open, that she stay. His demands went unheeded, nothing but silence now filled his head. Opening his eyes, Finn was surprised to find himself drenched in sweat. His breathing was rapid and his head felt light; a buzzing sounded in his ears. Slicking back his hair, he tried to make sense of it. What the hell just happened? The air snapped with energy, turning around, he came face to face with his cousin.

“Looks like you found a Fragment—or should I say, she found you?” Cian, with a drink in his hand, and his eyes—the same brown as his own—dancing with mirth, toasted him. “And from your reaction, I’d say she’s yours. Now all we need to do is find her before Mikel does.”

*****

Ali fought through the fog, fear driving her to the surface of consciousness. Gasping for breath, she jackknifed up; her eyes flew open to discover she was in the dark. Panic seized her until she realized that she was in her room, in the
almost
dark. Her chest felt like there was a weight on it and she rubbed it to ease the discomfort, at the same time, she tried to slow down her heart, and breathing. A shiver ran through her as she pulled the twisted blankets around her shoulders, biting back the sob that crowded in her mouth.

Someone—a man, had found her, in that in-between time of wakefulness and unconsciousness. The discovery had been so shocking that she had spoken to him, telling him he shouldn’t have been there. Her body trembled as the memory rushed back. His voice had carried strength despite his surprise. The sound of it had cloaked around her, and for a brief moment, she had felt—safe.

He had offered to help her; she had felt his concern for her. When the medication began to drag her down, she felt him fight against it. She had felt his pain, the struggle to keep connected to her. The last thing she remembered was hearing his shouts of rejection, the demands that she stay with him. A vision of an intimidating warrior, his body honed by years of battle and sword wielding, wavered in front of her. His eyes were direct and fierce, his hair fell wildly to his shoulders—then he faded away.

The dream came then. She saw a battle that lead into a full blown war. A woman, powerful; fought a master of darkness. There was so much destruction and people living in fear. She saw places that reminded her of quaint villages, their thatched roofs made her think of Europe. Then she saw isolated places where snow and ice were the norm. Darkness was everywhere, tainting everything. People, travelling, away from their homes, they were fulfilling a duty, they carried something important. They were the followers of an important woman—a goddess. She had charged them with this task. One they never questioned. What they had, they tended to, passed on to their children and their children’s children, until the time was right for the something to rise up and restore the balance. It was a time of great fear and helplessness.

The medication couldn’t prevent Ali from feeling the vulnerability of those caught in it. Nor could she stop herself from feeling responsible. Overloaded by it all, she had fought back, pushing the images away, declaring them fictitious, a result of her being under stress and medication. Then, she had pushed her way to the surface, her head pulsing in pain from the effort. Her hand shook as she pushed back her hair. She had told him she was done with crazy—
she
may be done, but it looked like crazy wasn’t done with her.