Gaia's Secret (5 page)

I crumbled the paper in my hand and threw it
at the canyon. The wind grabbed hold with invisible fingers,
lifting and carrying the wad farther and farther. Back and forth it
floated through the air, away from me, taunting me, like Alex.

I sighed. Dad was right, again. My current
circumstances hadn’t changed. I knew this moment would come, that
I’d have to take my future into my own hands, and I wasn’t really
that upset that Dad wouldn’t help. I wasn’t happy about it either,
but that wasn’t the problem. Right now, I was upset about Alex. For
years I’d denied his memory rights to my thoughts. Now they
attacked with a vengeance—stabbing and tearing at my insides. All
this time they’d been idle, waiting for that opportune moment.
Problems conspire with each other behind your back and when they
unite against you, you don’t stand a chance.

A gust of wind ripped through the fields.
Cadence whinnied, her mane a mess. The clouds above were dark. Very
dark. I was so focused—so angry—that I hadn’t noticed them sneak
upon me, and from the looks of things, I’d be lucky to return home
only damp.

Cadence and I ran hard back to her stable as
thunder cracked overhead, rumbling throughout the earth, a warning
to those in its path. As I ran across the neighbor’s yard, large
droplets smacked my forehead, coming faster and faster as I ran.
And thicker. I reached the fence and leapt over, my boots squishing
in mud on the other side.

I stopped in my tracks.

The car was there, in the same spot. But our
house was dark. Too dark.

I sprinted across our small yard as rainwater
spilled into my eyes, my boots splashing through small puddles
soaking my pants. Our front door was cracked open, the space beyond
hidden in shadow. My heart pounded in my chest. Something was
wrong.

I shoved the door in, my breathing ragged as
I scoured the shadows. “Dad?”

Scorch marks stretched like black veins
across the walls and down the hallway, crumbles of charred plaster
littered the tiled floor. What had happened? My steps shook, my
blood raced.

And then someone grabbed me from behind.

“
I
t’s me. Calm
down!”

Cicero released my arms and I stopped trying
to tackle him. His eyes were hard as he held my gaze, his features
tight with strain. I’d never seen him so serious. But what was he
doing here? “Where’s my dad?”

Sonya ran around the corner, her hands on my
cheeks the moment I was within reach. “Thank the spirits you’re
safe.”

Spirits? And why wouldn’t I be safe? I pushed
her away. “What about Dad?”

“Your father is…”

The back door opened and slammed. Heavy
footsteps hurried towards us and Alex appeared in the hallway,
drenched. “She’s not…” His voice trailed off as his eyes settled on
me. I noticed the concern on his face just before it dissolved back
into something hard and unreadable. He turned around and
disappeared down the hall.

“What’s going on?”

“Daria.” Cicero’s voice was careful.
“Something happened and Alaric wanted us to come and get you.”

My heart lurched. “What do you mean…something
happened?” My eyes jumped from Cicero to Sonya.

“Don’t worry about your father. You’ll have
to trust us until we can explain. At our home.” The intensity in
Cicero’s gaze was strong, like he was trying to hypnotize me into
following them.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me
what’s going on.”

Alex appeared again, this time carrying a
burlap bag. He didn’t even glance at me as he tossed it to his
father and opened the front door.

“Someone 
please 
tell me what
happened!”

Alex halted. All three of them stood still,
staring at me. They were in my house. Why did I feel like the
intruder? 

“Daria.” Sonya pleaded with outstretched
hands. “Calm down. Your father is perfectly fine. We saw him
ourselves. He was worried about your safety, and wanted us to take
you to our home for the evening. You’ll see him first thing in the
morning.”

Were they serious? My dad would leave me
notes just to say he walked to the mailbox. “You can’t honestly
expect me to believe that
my
dad would just…leave without
telling me first.”

“Of course he wouldn’t.” Cicero took a step
towards me. “That’s why he had us come and get you. So we can
explain at our home.”

“Right here seems like a perfectly good
spot.”

“It’s not safe here.” Cicero leaned close;
his eyes held a ferocity I’d never seen before. “And you wouldn’t
believe us.”

Without giving me the chance to argue, he
turned and followed his son through the front door.

With each passing moment my hope sank further
and further. This was so out of character for Dad, and in fact I
couldn’t remember the Andersons ever coming to
our
house. I
didn’t think they knew where we lived.

“Come.” Sonya grabbed my arm.

But I didn’t budge, staring at the charred,
black lines streaking the walls. They were strangely narrow and
laser-focused, making the walls look like they had a web of black
veins. What had made them?

“Daria?” Sonya tugged on my arm again.

I followed her out the door and we ran
through the rain towards the Subaru. Our Subaru. “We’re taking
our
car? But what about…”

My words were cut short as Sonya all but
shoved me in the back seat; Alex already had the engine running,
his eyes narrowed as they surveyed our surroundings. Despite his
new talent at hiding behind an enigmatic mask, he seemed a little
tense, almost predatory. And I didn’t see the Andersons’ Mercedes
anywhere.

“Where’s your car? Wait—” I was confused
“—how did you even get here?”

I caught Alex’s sharp gaze in the rearview
mirror before his eyes flickered back to the dash.

Sonya grabbed my hand as she sat beside me.
“Please believe us. Your father is fine. You know how he is about
your safety. This will all be sorted in the morning, and he’ll
explain everything to you then.”

I stared into those eyes: eyes that never
lied. Cicero sat in the passenger seat, slammed the door, and we
were soon backing out of our driveway. Fast. In fact, I didn’t know
our Subaru could go that fast, and I had no idea where Alex learned
to drive like that. The road seemed to move for him.

The drive back to the Anderson home was the
longest hour in my life. Once we arrived, my anxiety increased
tenfold. I didn’t realize I’d held out hope that my dad would be
waiting for me until I felt the sting of disappointment when he
wasn’t. Where could he have gone? What was he doing? And why send
the Andersons after me? If I didn’t get some answers soon, I’d
search for him myself.

The Andersons escorted me straight to their
library without any explanation. Cicero walked over to the desk and
retrieved the key.

My impatience became unbearable. “Don’t tell
me my dad is hiding down there.” I pointed to the painting.

Sonya and Cicero both stared at me, startled.
And then, their eyes darted to their son.

“Alexander?” It was obvious Cicero was very,
very irritated.

“I never told her.” Alex’s eyes narrowed at
his father. Alex sounded almost bitter.

“Now’s not the time,” Sonya said, taking the
key from her husband. She grabbed the flashlight, walked over to
the portrait, and opened it. “Daria?” She peered back at me.

If I hadn’t grown up with the Andersons, I
might have used the opportunity to run and call the police. I was
wasting time being here, having fled the scene of the crime. But I
trusted this family—at least two-thirds of them. I knew they loved
my dad. If they wanted me to follow them to a strange room in the
belly of their home, I should at least give them the benefit of the
doubt. To me, that translated to approximately ten minutes.

Taking a deep breath, I followed Sonya.

Cicero and Alex were right behind me; their
whispers sounded harsh in the empty stairwell. I couldn’t tell what
they were saying, but I was almost positive it had something to do
with Alex defending his honor, while simultaneously ruining mine.
Sonya pushed open the door and went around the room lighting
candles. Ribbons of smoke floated through the air as the library
flickered with a warm glow, the candlelight hiding the shadows that
seemed frightening hours ago. The globe stood in its corner, still
spinning around its axis.

I had the sudden urge to walk over to it, but
hesitated. Answers first. Cicero was rummaging through a small
wooden box sitting on a shelf. From it, he produced a folded piece
of paper and walked back to me.

Eight minutes.

“Read it.” He held the paper to me.

I eyed him, but took it. The paper was thick,
stiff. The creases were perfect, folded once and never opened, and
the writing was in my dad’s hand.

My lovely daughter,

I’m entrusting this letter to the Del
Contes, whom you have known your entire life as the Andersons. Even
as I write, I hope it never finds your hands, because that would
mean your safety has been compromised. You know I’m not one to take
chances with your safety—probably to a fault. But if you do find
yourself reading this, I must ask you to do something for me.
Listen to the Del Contes. Trust them with your life, as I’ve
trusted them with mine. They will be my voice in my absence. I hope
that whatever situation has caused our separation is momentary, and
that I will see you again soon within Gaia’s realm. There is so
much I need to explain that I should’ve done many, many years
ago.

Please forgive me,

I love you,

Dad

I read the letter again. It was definitely my
dad, that much I knew. But what on Earth was he talking about?

“You…are the Del Contes?” I asked.

Cicero and Sonya exchanged a nervous glance.
“Yes,” she said.

Each of them stared, anxious about how I’d
react. And they should have been, because I was furious.

“You mean to tell me that you drove me all
the way from my home and brought me down here just to tell me you
have a different last name?”

Cicero exchanged a quick glance with his
wife. “Did you read the rest?”

“Twice!” I was so mad the paper shook in my
hands. I couldn’t believe I followed them here for this.

“And?” Cicero asked.

I glanced back at the letter, my rage
growing. Five minutes. “Fine, where is this G…how do you say
it?”

“Guy-uh,” Cicero said. “Gaia is another
world.”

My eyes snapped from the paper to Cicero,
then to Sonya and Alex. Nothing in their expression even hinted at
humor. These people I’d known all my life, this family I’d trusted.
I may have been experiencing slight hysteria at my dad’s sudden
disappearance, but it didn't mean I'd believe any explanation
thrown at me.

“Just how stupid do you think I am? My dad
goes missing and you tell me there’s another world. Is that really
easier than telling me the truth?”

“Please, calm down.” Sonya held out her
hand.

“Calm down? Didn’t you
see
the walls
in my house?”

“Yes, and we already told you Alaric is
fine,” Cicero continued. “He’s not the international businessman
you think he is.”

I waited, sweating and shaking with rage. And
for some reason, I was afraid of what Cicero was going to say
next.

“Alaric is an ambassador from Gaia—the world
he’s from. The world we’re all from. Including you.”

My breath lodged in my throat. Cicero’s words
repeated over and over in my head. My heart raced as the edges of
my vision started going dark and I gripped the nearest bookshelf to
balance myself. My dad goes missing under very strange
circumstances. People I’m supposed to trust abduct me. Although,
considering I agreed to come with them, I couldn’t call it
abduction. But at that time, they hadn’t said anything about
another world. If they had, I never would’ve followed them. What
next, magic?

“I don’t believe you.” I stared at the floor
that was slowly starting to tilt. “And I don’t see how your story
explains anything about where my dad is.”

“It explains everything about where Alaric
is,” Cicero continued. “He’s gone to that world, and you’re coming
with us to meet him there.”

Spots started floating and swirling in my
eyes and the ground tilted faster and faster. I sat down in a cold
sweat, focusing on keeping my consciousness close.

A square, dark object appeared before me.

Cicero was holding a large, leather-bound
book. The binding was worn and dried, the stitching in the leather
frayed at the edges. “This is probably the best way to show you, in
a way that
you
will understand.”

Shaking, I took the oversized manuscript from
him and set it in my lap. Right across the front, in faded bronze
embossed lettering, were the words:

This wasn’t a manuscript. It was an
atlas.

He was going to explain a hypothetical world
with a map? Cicero waved for me to continue. I refolded my dad’s
letter and shoved it in my pocket.

I lifted the large cover and stared at the
large page beneath it. Strange handwriting was scrawled at the
bottom.

Seekers beware.

What was there, was there before, and will
not be, evermore.

I glanced up at Cicero.

“Turn the page.”

Scrolled across the top of the next page was
the word
Regent
. Right below, filling the rest of the page,
was a giant black square. “What am I looking at exactly?” My voice
trembled despite my feeble attempt at strength.