Vision (16 page)

The poor, pathetic sacrificial lamb.

Things could have been different, and I would
still be lying in my favorite place nestled against Stuart. Instead
I underestimated everyone around me, choosing to acquiesce to
inescapable madness.

My school life was over. I would not return.
Lost opportunities I had kicked ass for my entire life – gone, baby
gone. Forget college – high school wouldn’t even be completed, here
or in the States.

Yep, I had royally, completely and totally
screwed everything up, and I would punish myself through eternity
for my shortcomings.

Hot tears drained into my ears. There was no
hope, so I decided to be nothing. Doing and being nothing required
less pain and energy. I thought about how people became addicted to
painkillers to achieve apathetic nirvana. I was a master within
minutes, and still drug-free.

If my Clear abilities would be used for evil,
at least I would control the rest of my mind.

Are you alone?

Fairchild?
This had to be a dream.

Are you alone?
He sent.

Yes.

Are you all right?

No.

You’re slipping away, I can sense it. Don’t
give up, love.

There’s no hope. Forget about me. They have
this all planned and will be moving me…

You’re still maddening, even in captivity. We
can’t use psychic airwaves for a philosophical debate, Layla.

Sorry. Does everyone know?

Of course, and there are plans underway.

What plans?

I take it you don’t have your phone?
He asked.

No, they took it right away. I’m going to
Belfast in two days to overthrow the government.

Do you know where you are leaving from?

No idea. I’m locked in a room with no
information.

Bloody hell. Are they feeding you?

Yes, three squares, but I can’t eat much.

You have to try. I’ve seen you with low blood
sugar and we need your head clear.

Trying…

Don’t worry past this minute.

I miss you. (pause) Fairchild?

I…I’m going insane, love. I failed…like
Jon…

No. I messed up. I knew for 3 days before
leaving. He threatened to kill everyone if I didn’t cooperate.

Still…

I was afraid for you, Mom, Colin,
everyone.

We could have…

I know.

So they’re using you? That’s what Liz
said.

Yes. To read the minds of world leaders for
Bane advancement. I’ve switched sides apparently.

Please believe me. We will get you out.

You only have a two-day window Fairchild.

Layla?
Mom joined.

Mom?

Are you okay?
She asked.

Yes. What is this, a telepathic conference
call?
I joked.

Oh, I didn’t realize you were talking to
Stuart.

Layla, are you there?
Stuart asked,
only able to hear my head.

Yes Stuart, but Mom has reached me. Sorry,
Mom. Hold on, Stuart. I’m fine, Mom. I’m locked in my room. Jasper
is out of town until Belfast in two days.

Arthur McDowell.

Yes! They mentioned him.

Ireland’s Prime Minister. We’ve been tracking
Bane activity and…

What, Mom?

It’s bad, Layla. Really bad. We must get you
out.

What is going on? Are you in England?
I asked.

Yes. Working at London headquarters with
Colin. What’s going on is the Irish government is in dire straits.
The Bane have a plan to overthrow the country. If that happens,
with your help, it will be disastrous.

Layla? It’s like listening in on a phone call
from one end. Stuart sent.

Hold on, Stuart. Go ahead, Mom.

Layla, listen. They don’t want you dead; at
least now so don’t fear for your life. Understand?

Yes, but what do they need me to do that they
can’t do?

Read security secrets McDowell would never
reveal to anyone. They want you to decipher their weaknesses, to
give Bane advantage.

Mom, I’m scared.

Don’t be scared, love.
Stuart
sent.

Don’t be scared, Layla.
Mom echoed.
We have two days. We’ll get you out. Keep your head straight.
I’ll contact you later. Goodnight.

Goodnight, Mom.

Layla?

Hi, Stuart. Mom’s gone.

So she’s Mum, now?
He jested.

The only one I have. What the hell. I may
never…

Stop. Don’t go there.

Sorry. Favor?

Anything.

Don’t let anyone I love, die.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The next morning, someone left a breakfast
tray when I was in the shower. Feeling more energetic after the
mental intervention the night before, I ate more food than usual
before searching the room for bugs and cameras. It’s not that I
knew where to look, or how to identify instruments of espionage
hidden in brick-a-brac, but I would try to use mental powers to
‘feel’ them out – or just look for weird stuff that seemed out of
place.

Just when I started the search someone
knocked.

Without thinking I responded. “Go away,
Andre!”

“Ms. Stone.”

Beatrice.

I opened the door to the stoic faced woman
wearing what appeared to be the same black uniform she wore daily,
blond hair neatly secured.

Her face remained still. “Your tray?”

“Oh, sure.” I walked to the desk used for
dining and delivered the tray back to Beatrice.

“You can walk around if you like. I’ll leave
the door unlocked for a while. You should move around.”

I smiled. “I’m good but thanks.”

“I’ll leave it open in case you change your
mind.” As she turned to walk away, she looked back over her
shoulder and without moving her mouth said, “The room is clean”
before clipping down the long hall.

The room is clean? Okay, stating the obvious
since they had an entire house staff.

But that’s not what she meant.

Beatrice didn’t actually speak. I was certain
her mouth had not moved.

She was telling me the room wasn’t wired
using her mind.

And how the hell did she know I was
checking?

And who the hell was Beatrice?

The thunderstorm brought sheets of rain that
draped the windows like curtains. I went to stand by one of the
glass panes and looked down at the deceptively green, lush
courtyard. I managed to start a fire in the fireplace, something to
stare at while hours passed unnoticed. Breakfast and lunch had come
and gone. The kitchen staff delivered lunch instead of Beatrice or
Andre.

Beatrice was likely laying low and maybe
Andre was finally taking me seriously about staying away although I
still wondered how he spent his days, and how creepy it must be to
have Jasper as a father.

But mostly I longed for Stuart. The weight of
his hand balancing mine, the teasing playful kisses leading me to
the edge and back when we just held each other...it was all too
perfect and this was my punishment. All my life spent in isolation,
feeling like a freak of nature, and then finding him only for a
brief moment – a cosmic joke, and so unfair.

An occasional glance at the desk clock
reminded me how much time meant nothing. There would be nowhere to
go until I was ordered. The rest was simply passage.

At some point I drifted to sleep...again.

It wasn’t just her voice this time. She was
in front of me. We stood toe to toe, facing each other.

Layla.

Hi, Mom.

I like that you call me Mom now. You look
well.

Well sure, it’s a dream.

Hhmm. Sort of.

Are you really here?

I’m…yes. I have the gift Sarah had – to
infiltrate dreams. Clear to Clear, of course.

And you said I was powerful. Where are you
now?

Lying down, eyes closed but not asleep. You
are sad, don’t be.

I miss…everyone.

We miss you. He can do this too, visit you
like this. I’ll show him.

Thank you, Mom.

(smiling) Layla, we…

Mom. Hold me. Can you hold me?

Yes. Yes, of course.

We closed the inches between us, carefully
reaching out to the other until we were hugging. After a few
moments, we gently released our embrace.

Mom?

Yes.

Do you love me?

With every fiber of my being. I’m sorry I
failed to be a good mother…nose to the grindstone to try to help
the greater cause and all.

Mom?

Yes.

I’m...

Sshh. Some things are clear without
words.

When my eyes opened it was twilight and still
pouring. There was another knock on the door – too early for dinner
at four in the afternoon. No one was there but a tea service sat on
a tray still hot with steam. I glanced both ways but not a soul
walked the endless hallways. Strange…I had no clue who resided near
me in this ‘wing’ of the manor. The plush imported rugs lining the
hardwood floors always muted footsteps.

I tiptoed out a couple of steps in my thick
socks and sweats, trying not to be conspicuous to no one in
particular. Expensive paintings and sculptures lined the walls, and
solid marble tables and plants were dispersed evenly in succinct
uniformity. All this luxury unnoticed and isolated, like me –
inanimate objects in a distant wing of a cold castle.

Continuing my venture down the endless
hallway, I finally reached one staircase leading down I hadn’t seen
before. Buckets of rain made the outside world shrouded in a gray
cloak as I longingly gazed out the large window where I stood at
the end of the corridor. Like Alice, I had fallen down the rabbit
hole, sensing invisible eyes lurking, unseen and unfriendly
creatures melted into every corner.

“Hey.”

I jumped a foot high when out of nowhere
Andre stood behind me. No wonder I thought I was being watched.

I turned back toward the room. “I was just
going back.” My pace picked up as I headed toward the door I left
open, waving general gestures of acknowledgements at the walls.
“Nice art.”

“Layla, wait!” He had reached out to grab my
arm then thought better. “I just want to talk.”

I stopped and swiveled to face him. “No.” I
said defiantly.

His eyes were pleading. “Please? One minute,
that’s it.”

I made no effort to conceal a giant eye roll
when my arms folded in front of me after I stopped walking. “One
minute.”

Andre stood before me cloaked in honest
misery – a puppy asking forgiveness I was unwilling to give.
“Layla…I’m…sorry.”

I leaned toward him slightly, feeling
suddenly in control. “Say that again?”

This time he didn’t hesitate. “I’m sorry for
what happened…for everything.”

I shrugged my shoulders and headed back to
my...quarters. “Okay,” I said while walking.

He worked to keep up. “Okay? That’s it?”

“Andre, you are in no position to emotionally
bargain with me. You apologized now let that be enough.” I slowed
my pace slightly.

“Do you forgive me?” He leaned in almost
imperceptibly as if to test the space between us, a kiss on his
mind and so not happening.

“Andre, really? You are Bane for Christ’s
sake. You and your mad hatter of a father kidnapped me. I’m a
prisoner in your house. Forgiveness? Don’t push it, but thanks for
the effort.”

I picked up the tea tray and closed the door
with my foot, smiling to myself.

Maybe Andre hadn’t totally converted to
Banehood yet. He was still young. Maybe there was a ray of hope he
wouldn’t become Jasper.

And then I remembered how he attacked me,
pushing and grunting, a reminder of Wilbur MacDonald and Sarah, and
how his obsession with her led to murder. Keeping a safe emotional
and physical distance would always be a good rule with Andre.

The lack of activity and too much sleep made
me restless with loads of pent up energy. I tried doing the basic
yoga postures I learned from Sienna. I ran in place only to become
over heated quickly with the crackling fire keeping the room warm.
There was a massive bookshelf in the room with old, original
looking volumes of classics, but focusing on reading was
impossible, and then dinner came which I barely touched opting
instead for a bubble bath.

Life without television sucked, but
apparently Jasper wanted me totally extricated from the outside
world. Either that or this room was never used enough to warrant an
entertainment system.

There was little left to do except lie on the
bed. The two days of waiting would end soon, and I would be leaving
Branson manor for Ireland and beyond. With no knowledge of the big
plan I couldn’t inform anyone about the next move.

The fear of being a sitting duck rushed back.
I sank further into the oversized downy mattress. I must have
drifted because the knock startled me. The clock across the room
read 7:12 PM. “Yes?”

No answer. I padded to the door and opened
enough to peek at Beatrice’s stone face staring through the crack.
“The trip is delayed indefinitely.”

“What? Why?” Not that I was in a rush to
stage a government coup, but the thought of movement toward escape
was my sole hope. Beatrice was mid-pivot, ready to walk away.

Mr. Branson didn’t say. At least a week. She
sent.

“Uh, okay. Thanks for stopping by.”

Great. Now the future was really vague –
wait. “Beatrice!”

She turned around but said nothing.

“Beatrice…your…you didn’t ‘speak’ that last
comment or the one the other day. Don’t bullshit me – I’m a
Clear.”

It was then she smiled to reveal a somewhat
attractive face – pretty, even.
No. I did not.

Before I could pepper her with questions, she
ducked down a side hallway almost running in her practical pumps.
Something told me to wait – I’m not sure what, but I didn’t follow
her as she left the impression our conversation wasn’t over.

If Beatrice was a Clear, I had someone on the
inside.