Continuing at our same pace, Dimitris speaks with the excitement of a child, who only just found out they weren't alone in the world. “I think that you should know the Symboulio are ancient and have deep-seeded beliefs that those humans who pass into the mist are actually the ones unworthy of entering the Elysian Fields … too loathsome for heaven. The council has been around longer than Christianity or even Greek mythology. To understand that you exist, to see what you are capable of, spawns jealousy, contempt, and most of all fear in the hearts of the council. They will shoot first and ask questions later … please, promise me that you will develop as healthy a fear of them, as you have for your monsters.” I can feel genuine concern for my safety in his words, so I squeeze his hand to let him know I appreciate the message he is sending.
Attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction, I reply to his statement about liking the expression 'Ho Thanatos'. “My mentor, Cassandra, uses the term Ho Thanatos, 'death that cannot die' … she is very insightful, in her way.”
“The Cassandra … princess of Troy… Homer’s prophetess … who would be three thousand years old? Really? Cor, even with all I know, I can still be blown over by your world. Cassandra’s dilemma is a favorite story here; even to this day … no wonder the Symboulio conveniently forget to mention 'who' they know resides in the mist. They wouldn’t want the underlings to develop sympathy, or admiration, for your kind … that would absolutely devastate the ol’ Gaffers. I’ll be damned … Des’s suspicions were true. They couldn’t handle an uprising in their midst. We, seers, outnumber them … isn’t that how it always works, though: keep the masses ignorant, and then only feed them what you want … so you can mold their prejudice?” Dimitris’s exhilaration is flavored with a righteous bitterness that doesn’t sit well with me.
“You know, in some cases the Symboulio are right to withhold information. A little while back, I sensed an entity, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. She has the power to reduce even the most rational person into the quivering mess of terrified prey. I’ve felt true evil before, but she made my heart race like a frightened rabbit on the verge of collapse. If she knew who was hunting her ... if she knew about the supposed power in your Symboulio, she would crush you all, in an instant." Or, she could simply see them as insignificant … thus ignoring their existence as if they were a group of mosquitoes, rather than glorified, corrupt, ethereal policemen.
I don't want to insult the importance of Dimitris's council, so I keep that bit to myself. "I’m not a fan of censorship, but there are times when some information is best kept secret for people’s own safety, and sanity. At the same time, I think you should know what you could possibly be up against; since you are on the frontlines, so to speak. I do see that there is an absurdity in what they are choosing to withhold … but then again, prejudice has never made any logical sense to me. Ultimately, I fear that ripping apart this organization without a clue as to what might pop up in its place … would only lead to more innocent lives lost. Yes Dimitris; believe in your revolution, strive to fight the good fight, but be prepared for the consequences of your actions.”
He nods solemnly, having seen enough death to easily comprehend the weight of my advice. After walking a bit farther in relative silence, he finally voices the question that has been bouncing around his head, “Who is this terrible creature you sensed? Does she have a name?”
“Cass refers to her as Beowulf’s monster, but I’ve heard another name in her mind, Echidna. I don’t think Cass believes in the Greek mythological ‘Mother of All Monsters’; but she seems to think that this creature is old enough to be the source of the mythology. It does make sense if you think about it; Echidna was the viper nymph responsible for unfathomable vindictiveness in Greek Mythology, and Beowulf’s monster was some sort of evil she-dragon seductress to the Vikings. Cass has seen her antics through visions, but only the visions the creature wants Cass to perceive. To trump the strength of Cassandra's visions … whatever this creature is, she is incredibly powerful.”
“What did Cassandra see?”
“She watched the creature hunt. Like all of us with these talents, I think the creature was a ‘special’ human once. I don’t want to even guess at what she can do, though no matter what her gifts are … she uses them to reap havoc. She feeds on hopelessness, fear, and hatred. Cass said that she can become solid like me; but in any shape needed to harvest terror … and because of that, she may be responsible for any number of the folklores about nightmares coming to life, from mythical monsters to vampires and werewolves. I guess in that sense she really is the Mother of All Monsters, the beginning of all the horror stories that have been ignored as fables and suspicions.” I shudder at the thought of something so old and influential.
Dimitris responds to my shiver by putting his arm around my shoulders and asking if I am cold. What a change in perspective, when we drop pretenses and really look at each other.
“Honestly, I’m fine.” I don’t shrug out from under his arm, though.
I don’t want to lose the contact that is intimate and innocent all in the same breath. Given my own modesty and shyness, I’ve become acutely aware of the different customs in different places. I can feel the lack of sexual tensions here, compared to America … here, a touch of greeting or thoughtfulness is simply considered friendly, with no innuendoes.
We take our time making our way down south, and the minutes pass by at a leisurely pace. He asks questions about Cassandra nonstop … after all, how often does one get to asks questions about a living three-thousand-year-old legend? His enthusiasm is contagious, and now that he understands the Ho Thanatos are no different than Mortos … some good, some bad, most indifferent, Dimitris is becoming genuinely excited. The idea of history’s starlets moving right next to him ignites the curiosity of a child, and I have to smile at the enchantment reflected in his eyes. I have a feeling that with everything this tender soul has been exposed to, seeing him this happy is a real rarity, and a treat to be savored.
“Ellie … is Cassandra as beautiful as the myths write?”
“Yes, I believe she is … if not more. As Ho Thanatos, we wear our spiritual energy like a cloak … Cass wears hers as if it were spun from the most intricate, golden silk. Her inner beauty and wisdom project the most breathtaking image of royalty … when we first met, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Her projection of her mortal body is exquisite: with dark red hair that seems to catch on fire when she stands in the sunlight, and her eyes are a brilliant green … but her spirit makes her a goddess. Looking at Cassandra, I can understand how myths like those of Aphrodite started.”
“Why can’t I see your energy? I can see you and your kind when you’re in the mist, but I see semitransparent forms that look like reflections on the surface of the water … nothing sparkling, no energy.” I can feel a change settling over his emotions. They still hold the reverence and contentment from his acceptance of the Ho Thanatos, but now I can feel a deep shadow of sorrow.
“Are you all right, Dimitris?”
“Yes … I just remembered where I’d seen the energy before. The lovely young one vanished, while profusely bleeding light. I don’t feel well. Do you mind if we find a safe place to sit for a little while?” His mind seems to take hold of the thought of someone’s spirit being destroyed … gone forever; and because the snare will not let go, he is hemorrhaging grief from the wound.
We are close enough to the water that I can hear the waves breaking, so I guide Dimitris toward the sound in search of a place to rest. We have to cross a highway that runs along the coast, and since we have been walking most of the night, there are very few cars driving past. Dimitris holds my hand for support … the pressure of his enlightenment starts tearing at my self-control. If I don’t find a place to detach myself, the full power of his distress is going to crush me.
I try to focus on the thoughts that are weaving their way through his despair. He is picking through all the, once thought, useless information he has collected by watching and listening to the Symboulio over the years. Following the tangent of emotions that run alongside his memories, the deaths he now sees as murders, I find a thread that runs back to his history classes taken at the council’s boarding school.
A brief, auditory history lesson shows me that Beowulf’s character is based on real life … no surprise there. As an unwilling participant in the making of a child with Echidna, Beowulf took his anger to the council. The Symboulio, much like more modern churches, saw his interest as an opportunity to spread their beliefs, and allowed his membership without any of the normal pomp and circumstance. Secretive and barbaric in the eyes of the council, Beowulf’s rise to king was only a small accomplishment. When he died during the battle with his monstrous son, he took all his clandestine information on the ethereal creatures with him. The Symboulio’s anger was immense, and they wrote off any further examinations of the viper woman’s involvement in Ho Thanatos affairs. That was a big mistake, a very big mistake.
Simply walking and folding my thoughts in Dimitris’s past, while trying to avoid his present state of mind; I hadn’t noticed that Dimitris had taken back the job of guide. He leads us to a large sail boat moored to one of the many docks in the bay. Modern and glossy-white, it looks as if it should be classified as a yacht, but my guide says it is too small to be considered a proper yacht … this is meant to be a home. I look at the name painted elegantly on the back … Despina.
“This is your boat? Despina? It’s named after your cousin, right?”
“Being the only surviving member of a very powerful family of seers has its benefits. I’ve taken a stance of ignorance over the years, concerning the Timoro and what they do to your kind. I have tried to call them in only when I saw something mischievous or evil … but I never took the time to know any of you; and I can’t help but to wonder how many innocents I’ve condemned. Whenever I become too curious for my own good, I come to Despina and try to leave the Council behind for a few days. Naming her after my cousin just seemed appropriate, considering this is where I want to be, when the reality of my choices start to become too obvious. Now, given how fond of you I’ve become … I couldn’t think of anywhere else I wanted to be. Please, Ellie, let me take you wherever you would like to go … please, give me a reason to float away from my life, just for a little bit.”
“Cassandra isn’t expecting me back for a couple days … I can’t think of a better way to spend that time. Thank you, Dimitris.”
I can tell as soon as we settle onto the boat, Dimitris is exhausted. He shows me around, and after my tour I suggest that he try and get some rest. After fighting the need for about an hour longer, he finally closes his eyes while sitting upright on his bed. Walking around, I peek at the pictures and trinkets he has sitting out in plain sight. After becoming bored, primarily because I don’t want to be too much of a snoop, and grudgingly deciding to not look in any of the cupboards or drawers; I go out up on deck. Athens is a city of light, and I have to remind myself that it doesn’t actually feel like a major metropolis … the love of ancestry is too strong here. I make myself comfortable on a chair and close my eyes so that I can focus on listening to the water licking at the sides of the boat. When I feel the warmth of the sun on my face, I realize that I must have dozed off for a few minutes.
Shaking off the drowsiness, I return to Dimitris. The rays of sunlight, pouring through the small, round windows, lit up the entire interior of the sleeping quarters. Walking into the cramped area that serves as a bedroom, I close all the shades so that Dimitris’s sleep won’t be interrupted. When he starts to toss and turn, grumbling and moaning, I can feel a desperation shooting out of his dreams. Crawling on to the bed, I let him rest his head in my lap. Responding to my company, he wraps his arms around my legs and hips while trying to nestle back into a deep sleep. My warmth and presence seem to help curb his nightmares, but he still feels distraught, even after his breathing becomes slower and deeper. I don’t want to touch his sleeping mind; the act seems too intimate after Christopher. I only want to touch Christopher’s mind. Actually, I only want to touch Christopher, period.
I lay my head back against the padded headboard and run my fingers through Dimitris’s hair, while I daydream about Christopher. His strong jaw flexing when he becomes nervous or anxious, the long lean muscles in his arms straining as he climbs the rocks on one of our hikes … oh, but mostly his eyes: full of light, and life, they shimmer similarly to the iridescent reflection of a rainbow on the water. I slip into dreams of his embrace, and his warmth drives me to want to taste his kiss just one more time. The desire to have him here with me is almost too much to bear, until I feel the pressure of his lips against mine.
Groggily I mutter, “Christopher? You’re here?”
Something is wrong; as reason slowly returns, I remember where I am, and more importantly that Christopher can’t possibly be with me. I open my eyes to find that I’ve fallen asleep, and slid down the headboard, finally coming to rest repositioned on Dimitris’s chest, with my arms around him. Blushing, I look up to see an amused and surprised smile on his face.
“Ellie, you are a very beautiful woman, and I would be a fool to ignore a kiss like that; but for some reason, I don’t think that was meant for me … who is Christopher?”
“Oh, Dimitris … bloody hell! I’m sorry!”
Feeling more humiliation than I thought was possible, I quickly retreat from the bed and proceed to trip over the door jam. Landing square on my bum, I feel like crying, until Dimitris’s laughter drags out a giggle of mortification. I don’t know where the laughter comes from. It must erupt from someplace where the embarrassment takes refuge, in order to hide from shame, but that doesn’t matter as the tears roll down my face and I gasp for air, laughing hysterically.
Dimitris leans over the edge of the bed and holds out his hand. I grasp his fingers and the intense feeling of understanding and consideration stops my giddiness. His eyes are soft; and even though his smirk is mischievous, he is offering the help of a friend. Intermingled with the friendship, I can feel a new appreciation for me as a human, not just an ethereal creature, but a woman. His eyes are opened up even further by the passing recognition that I might be someone with whom he could have a relationship. Inside that realization, there is a hint of disappointment at the fact that my heart obviously belongs to someone else.
He slides off the bed, and while still holding my hand, he lifts me off the floor. Then leading me into the kitchen area and seating me at the table, he turns to make us breakfast, without saying another word. After setting water on the stove to boil, Dimitris adds a splash of vinegar to the pot; and then, in a separate pan, he starts frying some pork in olive oil. Grabbing a bag from a cupboard, he pulls out two large rolls that look a bit like bagels. Slicing the bread in half, he browns them in the pan with the pork. Then pulling the pork and rolls out of the olive oil and setting them aside, he folds egg yolks into the cooled pan. As he adds other ingredients to the quickly-thickening, bright-yellow paste, I look at the sauce and recognize it as hollandaise. Swiftly, at the same time still stirring the hollandaise, he gently breaks eggs into the boiling water. On two plates he layers the rolls with the pork, poached eggs and hollandaise. Then unceremoniously set the plates on the table; given the gourmet meal now in front of me, I have to snicker at his presentation.
“I love eating … I don’t know how I survived without tasting and chewing for almost seventy years.”
Dimitris looks confused for a second and then starts laughing, “Um Ellie, I hate to break it to you, but most people wouldn’t survive seven days without eating more or less seventy years.” He shakes his head and continues to smile, telling me I had better eat up.
After finishing breakfast, I tell Dimitris where I am supposed to meet Cassandra. Again, I watch as a sense of wonder passes across his expression: not only is Cassandra real, but so are her children. All of the times he’s read Homer, the times he’s taken part in conversations about history existing in every corner of Greece, it has never really occurred to him that some of the rumors and lore might be fact, instead of legend. The reality that the twins are in Sparta, resting, unheard of, for so many years, simply adds another level of amazement to his perception of history.
“Ellie … would you mind if I came with you to meet Cassandra?” I can sense the eagerness, and nervousness, buried in his words.
“I don’t see why not … I think Cass might like meeting you. But I’ll warn you ahead of time, she is very suspicious of Mortos. In one of her many lectures, she actually referred to some sort of ‘dangerous humans’ … I’m pretty sure she was talking about the Symboulio. You may not want to tell her about your affiliation with the council.”
“I don’t understand … if she knows I’m a Seer, which she’ll have to if I can see and talk to her, then she’ll know I’m associated with her ‘dangerous humans’.” Now there is aggravation and impatience … I can understand being eager and nervous about meeting a piece of living history, but I am confused by what I am feeling from him now.
“Dimitris, I know of Seers that weren’t Symboulio…" Ann's presence flashes into my mind. "You can’t tell me that every person in Europe with ‘seeing’ abilities is forced to join them.”
“Yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you; join them or die. Talents that occur outside inherited abilities are very rare; and tracking families is how they always find the talented. I already explained that the abilities run in specific bloodlines, it may surface stronger for some people more than others, but it’s hereditary, and the Symboulio know of every family with these traits.”
“Do they keep track of all families with talents, or just the Seer lineage?” I am trying to put together the questions about my family's background … and finding myself more and more irritated that no one ever explained any of this to me before.
“I think they had catacombs full of ancestry records once, but over time they narrowed down the list to account for mental illnesses or Seers. A person with our traits, who just happens to be mentally ill, is at risk of becoming evil, and the council kills off the family before they can procreate. They keep track of those talents that are the most beneficial to their cause … and Seers don’t tend to have offensive powers, so they are easy to control, thus becoming a primary asset to the Symboulio.
“They always take the risk of aberrations showing up in the general population, talents forming outside the known bloodlines. This has been an issue in the past; because they didn’t have trustworthy means of diagnosing mental illnesses, such as hallucinating, verses someone who could actually the creatures. Our history is riddled with special ones, driven mad by our world, and then they turn to torturing people … ironically, when the torturers were killed, they would pass into the veil as evil manifestations of what they once were. I think, maybe that’s why, the council became so determined to kill all of you, to kill the anomalies, to kill entire family lines before they could create more potential threats; they felt responsible to correct past mistakes. That guilt turned into full-out prejudice, a bloodthirsty need to cleanse the world. Now that I know you, I’m starting to see their calling is actually genocide. I don’t blame Cassandra for being suspicious; she hasn’t survived this long by trusting blindly.”
Replying bitterly, I say, “And then there’s the rub, her seclusion was killing her just as sure as the Symboulio would have. What a sodding, messed-up world we live in, full of contradictions, loneliness, and death … so much death.” I feel extremely tired after listening to Dimitris's impromptu history lecture. I suddenly understand how dimwitted I’ve been for not listening to Cassandra’s warnings, mistakenly seeing her as paranoid and unreasonable, with her mutterings about conspiracies.
My head starts to spin and my limbs begin to feel incredibly heavy. I ask for some water, and when I place my lips on the glass, I can feel the pressure and hear the clink of the cup against my teeth, but I can’t feel the texture or the change in temperature. My lips are numb, and then the deadened sensation starts spreading across my face. As my eyelids start to slide shut of their accord, I tell Dimitris I am not feeling right, and ask if I can lie down.
Through the fog, I feel concern, and hear, “What’s wrong? Okay, Ellie … whoa, don’t try to walk on your own. Come on, let’s put you in the bedroom, you can rest while I take us to Sparta.”
I think I am mostly unconscious before we even make it to the bed, because I have the impression of being lifted off my feet and into a strong embrace. Dimitris's contact bombards my senses with fear, worry … but most of all, shame. The next thing I know, I am under warm covers that smell of Dimitris, and the fog of sleep takes the rest of my mind into dreams.
Yellow and blue swirls are waiting for me, beautiful, almond-shaped eyes outlined in black and surrounded by white fur blur into focus as the white wolf nuzzles my cheek. She whimpers softly in my ear, and tries to nudge me into motion. When I can’t lift my hand to return her affection, or push away her nagging, she steps back and cocks her head, studying me. Then, quite suddenly, she runs off into the mist.
Alone and coherent, but still unable to move, I can't help but to become scared. Reaching with every ounce of mental energy I can gather, I call out to Cassandra.
“Something is wrong … terribly wrong! I’m paralyzed, and every nerve ending seems to be on fire!”
In response, I feel the wolf returning with the heavy footfalls of a human following close behind. Reaching out again, I try to contact the approaching mind that can only be Christopher, “Help me, please!”
I watch as feet drop down to knees, and hands gently hold my face, forcing me to look up at a mask of fear. Christopher is swearing, and asking me what is wrong. Silence … Damn it! Why can’t we hear each other here? Not that I could answer his muted question, I can’t make my mouth work. My head flops around in his hands, as if I am a rag doll. Pulling me up into his arms, he wraps his entire body around my limp form. Looking into his eyes, I see my own worst nightmare … he thought I was gone from his world, and my own. Reflected in his expression, I see something that would destroy me … the death of his reason to exist. I try to move my eyes … to let the tears, I know were forming, fall … anything to let him know I am not lost.
I can’t make anything work, I am trapped … and for the first time since my death, I feel as if I am suffocating. Rationally, I know I don’t need to breath, but I need air to scream …I need some way to force the noise out of my vocal cords; I start to panic. Anguish becomes its own creature as it races around inside my head, screaming, moaning, crying … then nothing, just the look of sorrow on Christopher’s face. He is shaking me, as if he was trying to wake us both from this nightmare; but the shaking now becomes the silent sobs of defeat. A hot pain tears through my esophagus and my stomach twists with violent cramps, brought on by my terror, and my inability to vent the pent-up screams. I try to calm my mind … as soon as I stop writhing in my own skull; I feel Christopher’s pain full force.
“Oh dear god, stop … you’re killing me! Christopher stop … please stop.”
He is too absorbed in the physical to listen to his own senses … otherwise he would know the truth is, I’m alive. Frustration at my own paralysis turns into aggravation with Christopher, for not listening to his own gifts. I can feel nothing but his pain, and then the frightening reality starts to form in his mind … he wants to die if he doesn’t have me to live for. I start screaming and squirming inside again, but nothing happens. Then I notice a different kind of movement as Christopher’s companion tries to squeeze in between us.
She is trying to make Christopher let go … I can only guess she is trying to tell him that I am all right, or at least, trying to make him use his bloody head, instead of his heart. As soon as the connection is lost, and I fall from his lap … the mist vanishes and I am pulled back to Dimitris’s boat.
I can actually feel the weight of the blankets and my eyes can almost focus, but my body is still useless. I have no choice but to lie still and try to figure out what is going on. Even though I am groggy, I know that this isn’t a normal reaction. I’ve felt the weight of other people’s pain for my entire life, and it has never incapacitated me like this. I can only imagine that this is what it feels like to be restrained in a hypobaric chamber; with so much gravity you can’t make your body move. Thinking about being trapped at the bottom of the ocean, I start feeling claustrophobic and need air. Silly thought … I’m dead; I don’t need air. Realizing the obvious again, I have to berate myself for not trying to return to the ethereal mist. I focus on pushing the overwhelming panic back down to my toes, and try to recreate my ability to travel back into the veil, as I had done with Cassandra, in Santorini.
Slowing down and trying to find calm, I wait to feel the movement of the boat on the water. Swaying back and forth, I send my thoughts back to sitting in Christopher’s arms … matching his comforting movement of rocking me like a child. I hone in on his love and almost start to feel myself drifting back, when I hear Dimitris’s furious voice outside the door.
“No … I will not tell her to re-enter the demon mist! You have no right to be here … I don’t care what they heard… ” then pausing momentarily just to explode again “…Bugging my blasted boat!”
I can’t make sense of what he is talking about; and I can’t feel any other people on the boat for him to be talking to. I am still bleary, but finally beginning to feel my feet, although my brain is still too sodding slow to understand what is happening. I know, even if only instinctually, that I need to stay solid … something about the emotions flowing from Dimitris tells me that my life depends on it. For some reason, I don’t think I would succeed at shifting back to insubstantial anyway … something is seriously wrong with my body … my control is completely gone.
**~~**
I can still feel the anger on the other side of the door, but can’t hear Dimitris’s voice any longer. Maybe he was on the telephone, or the boat’s radio. As I lie still, trying to convince myself that I imagined Dimitris speaking, I can’t shake the feeling that I need to stay in my physical form for safety reasons.
With a slight sigh of relief, I feel a tingling sensation in my fingertips that turns into flames licking at my palms. Lying there for what feels like hours, I wait, rather impatiently, to regain some sense of power over my body. When I finally sit up, my head starts to swim, so I quickly lie back down again; this makes my stomach flip. The shades are still closed from the morning I shut them so Dimitris could sleep. I have no idea how much time has passed while I was debilitated; and not understanding what happened to me, for who knows how long, frightens me.
As my fear turns into sobs, I remembering how badly I’d prayed for tears to show Christopher that I was still alive … Oh god, Christopher!
I close my eyes and focus on the wolf in my mind’s eye. Searching, stretching out my thoughts as far as they can go … nothing. I'm not even sure if I'm actually in the fog where I can connect with her, my mind is refusing to focus and my heart is racing at the memory of Christopher’s pain. Damn this idiotic paradox, I need to relax and focus, so that I can find the wolf and let Christopher know I’m okay; but I can’t calm down enough to focus, because I can’t find the wolf to let Christopher know I’m okay. Finally deciding to sit down, more to sulk than to try and relax, I wait and hope that they will find me.
**~~**
I argue forever with myself over whether or not they're coming back, giving up only when I feel someone trying to shake me awake. I open my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief as Dimitris’s face comes quickly into focus. I sit up slowly and find that most of my spinning disorientation has disappeared. Dimitris looks pale and disheveled as if he haven’t slept for days.
“Are you all right?” His voice cracks as he speaks.
“I’m feeling better … I don’t know what happened, how long have I been out?”
Dimitris averts his eyes as he speaks, “It’s my fault … I didn’t know how you would react to the poison. I wasn’t sure it would affect you at all. It’s supposed to work like a drug on your kind … it was the first time I’d ever used it.”
“Poison?” I am slow on the understanding, but something makes sense about my incoherence and feeling of being drugged. “Why would you poison me?”
“Because, I knew they were coming. I found a listening devise while you were sleeping that first day, and I couldn’t allow them to harm you … I needed you indisposed, and set solidly in this world.”
I still can’t understand what he is telling me, “Why would you have poisons that could paralyze my kind … on your boat?”
“All Seers have venom packs to use in case one of you, who are able to hurt the living, was to become dangerous.” He pulls a dart out of his belt: it is about three inches long and has a red tuft at the top.
“Venom? I don’t remember you stabbing me with that…” My brain must still be loopy, or I am in shock, because none of what he is saying is making sense.
“Listen to me, Ellie … you have to understand, because we are almost to bloody Sparta, and they will be waiting. I stirred your hollandaise sauce with one of my darts … at first I didn’t think the scorpion venom would work, and then I was sure it had worked too well. I’ve been scared as hell that I’d condemned you to a slow agonizing demise when you refused to wake up for the past week.”
“A week?” Oh no, my god, Christopher!
“The Timoro keep coming to check up on us, and I can’t avoid the council much longer. They are not happy about missing the opportunity to catch Cassandra. Do you remember me telling you that they only have use for those who can be instrumental in their ultimate plans… such as Seers, and Timoro? They’ve been drooling over the chance to control a precog for centuries. The chance to take Cassandra was too important for them to ignore; even though precogs are notoriously impossible to catch … they are such fools.”
“Precog? Take Cassandra? Dimitris, did you turn us in?” The betrayal pulls me away from my thoughts of Christopher. “Where is Cass … did they hurt her?”
“No, they arrived too late after the Timoro, who had been spying on us, told them the juicy news that one of the strongest Precogs could be found in Sparta. Cassandra was nowhere to be found … that was four days ago, about the time she was supposed to meet you. She must have seen what was coming and ran, or flew in your case, because the Symboulio brought their best hunters and there was no sign of her. That’s why the Timoro have been returning here to look in on you … they seem to think you can tell them how to sneak up on Cassandra. I told them that you wouldn’t have any sodding idea … because as far as I could tell, it is bloody impossible to sneak up on someone that can see the future! As long as you’re in your tangible form the Timoro can’t hurt you. Although when we dock outside Gythio … the council will be waiting, and they can most definitely hurt you. I don’t know what to do, Ellie.”
“What if I change back now, and fly away?”
“I’ve been able to keep the Timoro off the boat for the most part; but if you were to look approximately thirty feet off the aft, you’d see we are being watched very carefully. I was thinking that if we kept you visible when we hit land, the human council members wouldn’t dare murder you in front of strangers … or at least that is what it would look like to any bystanders: murder.”
“I think being ripped limb for limb would constitute murder, no matter who was witnessing the act.”
“Indeed … Ellie, I’m so sorry.”
“Okay, well let’s prepare for what’s coming … first, who will be meeting us?”
“To oversee the capture of Cassandra ... I don’t know who they would still have on hand after the initial mission failed. I’m pretty sure one of the elders will be meeting with us, because the Timoro have to be answering to someone. My best guess would be Esidor … he is particularly good at capturing and dispatching Ho Thanatos. He’s a very old Seer, and is rumored to fear death so much that he has invented a way of absorbing the energy of dying ethereal creatures. Some say he’s over one hundred years of age, but to look at him, you’d think he was in his sixties … maybe there is something to the rumors after all. In any case, with a capture or possible demise of someone as important and powerful as Cassandra … Esidor would absolutely be involved.” I feel and understand the depth of Dimitris’s fear as he speaks the monster’s name; imagine using living creatures as a face lift. The dark irony of my thoughts makes me giggle bitterly over my situation … What in the hell am I going to do now?
**~~**
