Chapter 3
“If you are to be my protectors, does that mean you will stay here with me and Mommy?” Rhee asked looking up to her brothers and sisters.
“We can’t, Rhee, we have to keep you hidden and we will probably be watched. We must stay away from you, to keep you safe.” Morgana approached her teary-eyed sister and sat down beside her on the hard floor.
“I will never see you again?”
“Of course you will. We must be careful and we can’t be obvious about our visits but we will never be very far away.”
“We will always be there for you baby sister, never forget that.” Rosalina sat beside her sisters.
“Remember what we practiced Rhee? If you concentrate really hard on us, we will be able to hear you call us and we will be here immediately; but only in case of an emergency.”
Rhee looked up to Bart, her other brother and nodded solemnly. She had no magical powers, no telepathy or telekinesis to speak of but her siblings being so powerful, they could hear her if she called.
Drake, Morgana, Rosalina, Bart. The Vampire, the Witch, the Angel and the Werewolf. This, Rhee thought worriedly, could be interesting.
* * *
Aya went from unconscious to conscious instantly. She experienced no grogginess as she looked at her surroundings. She was fully awake, fully alert and fully . . . confused. She sat up and frowned. She was in her bedroom, in bed with her pajama on. What the hell? Had she dreamt last night’s events? Was Tristan only a hallucination conjured by her sleep-deprived mind? She raised her hands to eye level and examined them carefully. She perceived nothing different about them. She turned them, palms toward the wall facing her and willed fire beams out of them. When nothing happened, she slowly clasped her hands together and let them fall back to her lap. Head bowed, brows knotted in confusion, she thought back to her dreams of the night. She remembered waking up, twice. Remembered the panic she felt knowing Tristan was heading for a trap. Although, at the time, she thought the Vampire had been the threat, not the smaller man. Though who was to say they weren’t working together against Tristan? She couldn’t have made all that up, right? Even though she’d been raised with talk of prophecies and Gods, and loved to read, she didn’t have a vivid imagination. She didn’t think she could have made that up. So, what now? Still frowning, she got up and headed for the bathroom. A good shower ought to clear her head.
After a good cleansing wash, she slipped into jeans and a t-shirt and headed downstairs to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Her parents were seated at the table, whispering to one another but immediately stopped when she entered the kitchen. They smiled at her warily.
“Good morning sweetheart”.
“Morning, Mom, Dad.” She poured herself a cup of coffee, added sugar and milk, turned toward the table and froze. Did she really want to sit with her parents this morning? How would they react towards her?
Her mother opened her mouth, as if to say something, closed it and opened it again.
“So, did you notice anything different about yourself . . . since yesterday?”
“Different how?”
“Well, have you changed somehow? Did you sprout wings or a third eye? Did you chant spells or something?”
Aya, who had taken a sip of her coffee, choked. Then she looked up and stared at her mother as if it was she who had sprouted wings and a second head.
“Was that a joke, mom?”
Carrie laughed nervously and glanced at her husband. Looking quite uncomfortable, Mark said, “Aya, honey, we don’t mean to upset you, but you have to understand us. We never thought the legends we told you of, the prophecy we were forced to pass down, had any truth to it. We find ourselves quite unprepared to deal with this. We don’t know how to deal with this. This isn’t just something we can go see a doctor for, you know?”
Aya’s eyes narrowed while her father spoke. “You don’t know how to deal with this? You feel unprepared for this? How do you suppose I feel?” Aya took a deep, calming breath, deciding to be the adult and reassure her parents. “Listen, maybe . . . maybe this is nothing. There was no life altering experiences from the moment we discovered my shifting birth mark until now.” She deliberately shoved the dream out of her mind. “Maybe there’s a logical explanation for the shifting. Maybe . . . maybe . . . Oh! I don’t know. Maybe this is a good thing, you know?”
She looked up to find her parents gawking at her. She sighed. They didn’t know what to say to her. Didn’t know how to comfort their daughter. Didn’t know whether she needed to be comforted.
“I’m going for a walk” Aya muttered.
She set her unfinished coffee cup down and headed outside to be greeted by the warm sun. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, needing the comfort of the sun’s rays on her face. The air smelled of flowers and freshly cut grass. She smiled, opened her eyes then froze. Her car was in the driveway. But she had taken it to be bowling alley. How did it make it back home? There was no way she had driven it herself, the last thing she remembered was Tristan’s worried expression as she passed out.
Aya bit her lip, turned back into the house, snatched her purse and keys from the staircase and ran back outside. She drove back to the bowling alley, intent on visiting the surroundings of the building in hopes of finding proof that she wasn’t completely crazy.
The parking lot was deserted this early in the morning and Aya made her way to the back where she parked alongside the building, got out and locked the door. She threaded carefully on the ground, sweeping her gaze left and right for signs of struggle, a torn piece of cloth or even a chipped fang. She was desperate for a clue, for anything. She tried to remember where she’d been lying when the electrical-ball dude had tried to fry her but it had been dark and the everything happened so fast her memory was slightly hazy. A few feet from the trash cans, she hit pay dirt.
She crouched down beside a huge black stain marring the asphalt and she shivered involuntarily. The ground was charred where her body had lain. She even found strands of her long red hair entwined together on the ground. If Tristan hadn’t called for her to move, she wouldn’t be here, searching for proof of what had really ensued the night before.
She touched the ground tentatively, ridiculously afraid it would still be smoking hot but it wasn’t, of course. She rubbed her fingers together pensively to remove the light soot that had clung to her fingers. So she wasn’t crazy. If not, how had she gotten home? Had she really driven her car? There was no way. Then who? Tristan? Impossible, he didn’t know where she lived. Finding the charred blacktop had proved she hadn’t imagined the night before but what now? Where could she go to find her answers? Maybe, if she dreamt of the Vampire the upcoming night, she could try to impose herself in the dream and ask him the questions. Hadn’t she read somewhere that you could take possession of your dreams if you were aware of them?
With a decisive nod, she rose swiftly and turned, ready to head back to her car. Instead, she collided with a rock hard body and she yelped. She looked up and frowned, ready to admonish the person who had creeped up on her. She froze as her eyes locked on a pair of vivid blue eyes and when the man grinned at her, she screamed. The Vampire!
She shrieked and tried to jump back but he grabbed her arms and held her in place, against him. She struggled in vain; his grip was much stronger than she was. She stopped struggling and fell limply against him. He relaxed his grip; she reared her leg back and kicked him in the left shin. He released her with a curse and leaned down to rub the leg. Aya turned and ran in the direction she came from. If she could only make it to her car . . . Would she have time to unlock it? She looked around wildly but couldn’t see another soul out. Where is everyone? Of course, she was behind the bowling alley and it wasn’t exactly a residential area but there were houses around. Why aren’t the children going to school and the adults to work? She suddenly remembered it was Saturday and normal people were probably still in bed sleeping or watching Saturday morning cartoons.
“Oh! I wish I was at home watching cartoons!”
Aya looked back to where she had kicked the Vampire but he wasn’t there anymore. Why wasn’t he chasing after her? Had he just given up or had she made it further than she thought? Still running, she breathed in a sigh of relief and turned her head back to the front thinking she’d reach her car in one piece.
The Vampire was suddenly just there in front of her but she was running too fast and she was helpless to stop; she slammed into him again. This time, he wrapped his long arms around her body and held her in place. In the back of her mind, she noticed he wasn’t even fazed by her body propelling into him; he stood still as stone.
“Let go of me! What the hell do you want?” She yelled while thinking; “Oh! Why didn’t I kick him in the crotch? That would have kept him down!”
The Vampire smiled and said with a surprisingly soft voice, “Aya . . .”
“Let go! Oh my God! I saw you! I saw you! You ripped his head clear off! With one bite! Then you laughed like a maniac, a maniac! Let go!”
His voice still soft he replied, “Aya, if I truly was your enemy, your powers would be triggered. They aren’t, are they? Please, listen to me.”
She stilled, looked up, met his gaze.
“Aya, my name is Drake. I only want to speak to you. You didn’t dream last night, you hear me? It really happened exactly as you remember it and I owe you some explanations.”
Aya peered at him suspiciously. Was he telling her the truth? Obviously he knew something, he called her by her given name and mentioned last night to her even though nobody was aware of her dream.
“Can I release you or will you run screaming again?”
She shook her head. She wouldn’t run, she needed answers and she was convinced he could give them to her. He slowly unwrapped his arms from around her and chuckled.
“It’s a shame you agreed so quickly, you’re definitely nice to hold onto.”
That was the last thing she expected to hear and she blushed.
“Ah, she blushes. A true redhead then?” He grinned then looked around them and returned his gaze to Aya’s. “This isn’t the place to have this discussion. Do you mind if we take it elsewhere?”
“Where do you have in mind?” She asked suspiciously.
He grinned. “My house.” But before he could take hold of her reluctant hand, his grin suddenly disappeared and he tensed. Drake whipped around, his back to Aya, and said very softly, “Aya, stay hidden behind me.”
“But . . .”
“Quiet!”
She scowled. Who the hell did he think he was barking orders at her like that? She should kick him again, just to show him who was really the boss around here.
She heard him chuckle. She glared at his back, wondering what was funny.
“Please stop drilling holes in my back, and stop thinking of kicking me again. I need both legs intact for this.”
She gasped when she realised that he was reading her mind.
“Aya, this isn’t the time to be angry, I need you to stay still.”
“But, why?” She demanded.
“Can’t you feel it? Expand your senses to all around us.”
“Expand my senses? What senses?”
“Not only your five senses. Your sixth one also. Can you feel anything different around you?”
She frowned, looked around. She couldn’t see anything different. Although . . . Something was wrong with the scenery. Everything was so still, nothing was stirring, not a leaf or a tree. No sound could reach her ears. She decided that if she wanted to feel anything, she would need to try by closing her eyes and avoiding any visual distraction.
What do I feel? She wondered. The warmth of the sun. Okay, well that was easy. What else? What do I feel? Isolation. Isolation? Where did that thought come from? She cocked her head to the side. She couldn’t hear any passing cars, no children laughing. No adults talking or men washing cars, nothing. It felt as if Drake and she are isolated from the rest of the world.
“Go on, keep trying,” he encouraged.
She closed her eyes again. She felt . . . there . . . like a shimmering of some sort. Yes, a presence. Menacing. Like . . . the evil lurking during the previous night’s encounter. She opened her eyes, wide with shock. Was she going crazy? Had she really felt this presence?
“Yes!” Drake whispered. She hoped the ‘Yes!’ was to confirm the presence, not that she was going crazy.
She tensed when she heard a deep laugh coming from in front of Drake. She peered around his body, but sees no one. She was convinced the laugh hadn’t come from the Vampire. Then who . . .?
“She is quick this little one, isn’t she Drake?”
“Loki, you bastard, show yourself.”
“My pleasure, Drake. I’ve always known that you couldn’t get enough of me.”
“Quite right. Actually, I’d love to cut your fucking head off and hang it over my mantle. That way, I’d always get to see you.”
“Now, Drake. Is that the way to speak in front of a young lady?”
Aya didn’t understand what was going on. Only that she sensed she could trust Drake. She also grasped that the evil she felt lurking in her dreams came from the electrical-ball throwing man, not Drake. She looked up to find Drake giving her a little nod. His approval of her train of thoughts? Then who was the other man?
“My name is Loki, my beautiful lady, and I am the God of Wind . . .
“Listen, buster, I don’t care what or who you are. If what I saw last night is any indication of what you Gods,” the last word she said with disgust, “can do then I want no part in it. Seriously, shooting innocent people in the middle of the night. What are you, the bogeymen?” She had no idea where the conviction came from that last night’s little man was a God, but as soon as Loki said God, she was sure enough to say it out loud and risk making a fool of herself.
Loki held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Rotario meant no harm last night. He attacked in self-defence.”
“Self-defence, bullshit! I was there and he shot first. Then he went after me when I missed him!” Although, technically, she only saw him do that in her dreams. She was actually the one to shoot first in Tristan’s defence.
She saw Loki frown with displeasure that she wasn’t cooperating with his story. Tough luck. See if they could put Tristan’s life in danger and get away with it!
“Aya, listen . . .”
“How do you know my name?” She asked sharply.
“Well, we’ve been watching you for quite some time now. And just a few moments ago, I had a nice little chat with your parents about you . . .”
Aya paled. No! Leave them out of this! She opened her eyes to find the God smiling smugly at her. She narrowed her eyes, staring at him hard. His smile faltered; she stared harder at him, through him. Her eyes bore into his, she somehow saw past his irises, his retina, his aqueous membrane, straight into his brain. She searched, found his memories, flipped through them quickly, impatiently. When she found no memories of her parents, she blinked back to reality and snarled, “Lies!”
Loki had frozen in place during her mental assault of his memories, but he was faster than she was to react to the shout of indignation. A hard wind rose and whipped around her and Drake. The air turned cold, arctic. She shivered violently, her teeth started chattering. She didn’t know how to activate the beams of fire out of her hands, although her hands were shaking too hard to even try. Her body shivered so much that her spine locked up tight, she couldn’t move, she was afraid she would permanently hurt herself.
Abruptly, the wind died down; Aya opened her eyes, startled. She was surrounded, walled in. She raises a hand, leaned it against the wall; ice! She was cocooned in a block of ice. What happened? She wondered, astounded. Did she do this to herself? Couldn’t be, she controlled fire, not ice. She looks around to see if maybe Tristan has shown up to protect her but she couldn’t see beyond her prison of ice. Prison? No, she didn’t think so. She suspected someone was protecting her from the God, Loki. Suddenly the wall dissolved. She looked up to find Loki’s face contorted with rage. The young woman realised that Loki hadn’t stopped the wind, it was still raging and the cocoon of ice had effectively protected her. The ice reformed thinly around her but this time she was able to see through it.
“Did you forget what element I am?” Drake mocked the angry God.
“You won’t always be there to protect her, Drake.” Are the God’s last words as he disappeared in a small hurricane.
As Loki disappeared so did the wind and Aya felt a shift in the air. She looked around and noticed people walking around, talking. The wind in the trees, the birds chirping and the bees buzzing.
“They were here all along, weren’t they?”
Drake nodded.
“Then where were we, in a parallel dimension of some kind?”
“No, it’s more like we were made invisible to the people around us and vice-versa. That’s why you felt so isolated. We were, in a way.”
“You really are reading my mind, aren’t you?”
As she asked the question, Aya suddenly heard a sharp intake of breath but before she could turn to find out where it came from, a hiss of pain escaped her parted lips. She clutched the back of her neck, folded in two, panting her every breath.
“Aya! Tristan!” Drake’s voice was thick with concern. Tristan! Did he say Tristan? She painstakingly raised her head and turned it to the left. Her gaze locked with a pair of pained clear green eyes. Tristan! He was in pain! Instinctively, she reacted. Her right hand still clutching her nape, she turned to Tristan and lifted her left hand. His left hand was cradling his ribs so he lifted his right one and touched her hand, intertwined their fingers together.
A bolt of pain shot through them both sending them to their knees, their fingers entwined.
“My birthmark!”
“It burns, it hurts!”
“What happened?”
“How did this start?”
Drake watched Aya and Tristan worriedly. They were both kneeling on his living room carpet, their hands holding in midair. They were gazing deeply into one another eyes. He knew they knew each other, in their dreams, but the way they were looking at each other, it looked like a meeting . . . of the souls. He didn’t think they realised he was in the room with them. He decided to peer into their minds to see what was wrong, why Aya was cradling her nape and Tristan his ribs.
“Why did I get the overwhelming urge to touch her?”
“It stopped hurting when we touched.”
“Was she the reason it began hurting?”
“Was he the reason . . . But it didn’t hurt last night! Why now?”
Drake pulled back and studied them carefully. They both had a birthmark? They were both the chosen ones? Impossible, his father would not have made a mistake. But he had been dying while he’d told them of the prophecy. He wondered if Aya and Tristan knew they were reading each other’s minds.
Suddenly, Tristan’s eyes widened and he jumped up and yanked his hand from Aya’s, startling both Aya and Drake. “Get out of my head!” He shouted.
“You’re in mine!” She retorted, slowly rising to her feet.
“But I heard you in my head, that’s impossible!”
“Apparently not, Tristan, because I heard yours too.” She looked around the living room before resting her puzzled eyes on Drake. “Um, where are we? And how did I get here? Did I pass out again ‘cause last time I checked we were in the neighbourhood near my house and now . . .”
“This is Drake’s house. And well, you were transported by Drake-way; another of his tricks, besides mind-reading.” Tristan stopped and frowned. “Is that it? Did you contaminate us or something?”
“Contaminate?” Drake raised a brow.
“Yeah, it would explain why suddenly I could hear her thoughts.”
“I think there’s another explanation to that. What were you two clutching so desperately a few moments ago?”
Aya, who was still rubbing her sensitive neck, froze. “My neck. Why is that important?”
“Because you both mentioned a birthmark in your thoughts. What birthmark?”
“Better question yet, what were you doing reading our thoughts?”
“I needed to know if you were okay and you weren’t answering me. The birthmarks?” He repeated.
Aya twisted her hair up into a loose bun and turned her back to Drake. She felt Tristan press closer to look and she breathed in the spicy scent of him.
“She smells just like the dreams, like sweet vanilla.”
Aya jerked upright at Tristan’s words. She didn’t say a word though, she didn’t want a repeat of the last episode. Why could she hear him?
“What about yours, Tristan?”
Aya turned back as he was raising his white t-shirt, revealing his well-defined stomach. She gulped. She’d seen him shirtless before in her dreams but this was different, he was here, he was real. She could touch him.
Tristan jerked up and locked gazes with her. “Of course I’m real!” The room was silent for a moment and abruptly Tristan realised that she hadn’t said that out loud. “What are you doing in my head again?” He growled.
“I smell like sweet vanilla?” She countered angrily. “Like in the dreams?”
“Ah, yes. The dreams.” Drake murmured but they heard him.
“How do you know of our dreams?” Aya asked sharply.
“Our dreams? You’ve dreamt of me too?”
“How do you think I know you?”
“I thought Drake had said something.”
“You’re the one meeting up in the dark of the night with him, not me.”
“But you were there.”
“Saving your ass, you’re welcome by the way.”
They huffed angrily, a few feet apart, glaring at the other. Suddenly, Aya’s expression changed. “Wait, if you have really dreamt of me, of my life, that means I’ve dreamt of you . . . Were they only dreams or were they . . .?”
“Memories?” He completed for her.
“Can’t be.” She exclaimed. “That’s way too intimate. Too disturbing.” She shook her head.
Tristan studied her briefly. “You love reading, you love music. You adore painting your toe nails. Your room is painted in different hues of beige and brown. You have a queen-sized bed. You work in a bookstore. You drive a pale-green Tercel. Your hair colour is natural, you’ve never had braces; those are your naturally straight teeth. You are a movie buff; adore Disney movies and action also. Would you like me to add anything else?” He raised an eyebrow.
Aya was speechless. Either the dreams really were memories or she’d had a stalker for years!
“I can guarantee he hasn’t stalked you your whole life.” Drake said, still beside her.
“How would you know . . . Hey, wait! I thought that, I didn’t say it out loud! Stay out of my head, Drake!”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
She gave him a sceptical look.
“Okay, well I can but I honestly don’t usually pry in people’s lives like that. It’s just very important I know what you’re thinking.”
“What . . . Am I suppose to be thinking?”
“Well, let’s see; you dreamt of a Vampire, ripping out a man’s throat, you dreamt of your lifelong love, actually alive and real, you woke up, saved his life and blacked out. Although you were very sure about all of this, sure it really all happened, you didn’t panic or throw a tantrum when you woke up and found yourself in bed; you went for a drive, back to the ‘scene of the crime’. Now, I’m trying to understand who this level-headed person is before giving her any explanations. And for that, I need to be in her mind.”
“You know, most people, the normal ones anyway, would either directly ask me for any answers or at least ask before protruding in my brain.”
“Funny, I don’t remember ever mentioning being normal.”
He chuckled when she glared at him.
“It doesn’t explain how you knew of our dreams, Drake.” Tristan said.
“Because we’ve kept an eye on you for years.”
“We?” They asked in unison.
“Yes, we.” A soft female voice answered.
Seemingly out of thin air, two women and a man appeared at the Vampire’s side.
“Tristan, Aya,” said Drake, “this is my sister Rosalina.” He dropped a hand on the beautiful petite blonde. She gave them a curt, yet strangely graceful nod.
He laid his hand on the second woman’s shoulder, a tall and slender black-haired beauty. “This is my second sister Morgana.” The woman smiled and said softly, “Nice to finally meet you both.” Aya recognised the earlier female’s voice.
The Vampire walked over to the other tall man. They had the same build although the other man was larger and taller. The Vamp had black hair and the other man had mahogany hair. And whereas the Vamp looked distinguished, calm and composed, the second man looked wild, untamed. Aya caught the Drake smiling and realised he was probably listening in on her thoughts. A nod in her direction confirmed it. It was undeniable these four were related; they all had the same peculiar shade of blue eyes, so intense it was almost violet. It was especially stunning with Drake and Morgana who both had black hair.
“This,” Drake says, “is my brother Bart. Barthoza, actually.” Aya saw Bart make a face and assumed he didn’t like his given name very much.
“And I,” says the Vamp taking a step forward, “Drake.”
Drake, Rosalina, Morgana and Barthoza. Aya’s eyes widen and she gasped. Five pairs of eyes turned to her.
She heard Tristan ask softly: “You’ve had those dreams too?”
She turned to him, whispered, “Yes!”
They look at the foursome and say together, “You’re Orion’s quadruplets.”
It was a statement, not a question. Aya could practically hear their jaws drop as they took in what she and Tristan just said. Three voices started speaking at once.
“How did you know?”
“Drake, what have you told them?”
“Maybe they just guessed . . .”
Drake approached the young couple, his magnificent blue eyes seizing them up.
“You’ve dreamt of him? Like you’ve dreamt of one another? You have his memories?”
“Memories . . . Yes, I guess that’s what they are. For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamt of Orion . . . And Tristan.”
“Same for me,” Tristan replied. “But that doesn’t explain how you know about our dreams, Drake.” His voice was soft but his eyes were hard, dangerous.
“He’s swift, brother, you have to give him that.” Bart laughed.
“We need to talk.” Drake said sombrely.
