Monday morning was bright and sunny. I had a text from Gus, the Centaur I met at Bruce’s wedding, asking if we were still on for Friday night. With everything that had happened yesterday, it had slipped my mind. I needed to talk to Beau.
Since I went to bed Sunday afternoon before dinner, I was well past rested and starving. Daniel was right in a lot of ways, but since I couldn’t share any of the Centaur stuff with him, at least without him thinking I was on a new designer hallucinogen, I decided I would be judge and jury. I believed Drake that our encounter was a one-time thing. We’d already agreed to give each other a lot of space. As long as we weren’t anywhere near each other, it definitely wouldn’t happen again. Something about his reaction yesterday told me this wasn’t something he routinely did. I could keep my friendship intact with Bianca, but I’d only see her when there was no possibility of being near Drake.
I would put the incident out of my mind, lock it away, and not think of it again.
When I got down to the kitchen, I was freshly showered, had a healthy glow from the sun yesterday, and was ready for whatever the day had in store for me. Gretchen was seated at the kitchen table with a laptop open. As soon as I walked in, she stood up. “We were worried about you. Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine. I was just spent from being out in the sun all day.”
“I checked on you a few times. You’re a heavy sleeper.”
“Not always, but like I said – yesterday wore me out.”
“Fair enough. Well, it’s just you and me. Everyone went back to work this morning. What do you want to do today?” She walked over to the oven and pulled out a warm plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Gretchen was a true domestic goddess.
“It’s okay, Gretchen. You don’t have to entertain me or anything. I can find something to do.”
“With everyone else gone from the house, now might be a good time to practice some of your Centauride skills.” I could sense that she was eager to help me but didn’t want to be pushy.
“I’m game. How do we start?”
“Let’s try communicating with your mother’s spirit. Every Centauride is different. You have five senses; normally one is stronger than the others. For me, my sense of smell is far superior to hearing, sight, touch, or taste. Do you know which of your senses is the strongest?”
“No, not really.”
“Have you been able to see your mother’s spirit or have you heard her voice?”
“I saw her a little, but it was like watching a grainy television. I could smell her perfume a couple times, though.”
“Okay, let’s assume your sense of smell is your dominant sense. When you think of your mother, did she have a favorite flower, a favorite meal, a hobby of some kind that has a scent that reminds you of her?”
“All those things. Lavender was her favorite flower, Italian dishes with lots of basil and oregano, and she loved NASCAR, so—exhaust fumes.”
“Exhaust fumes remind you of your mother?”
“Yeah, and burning rubber, too.”
“If we need to set an old tire on fire we can, but let’s try some of the more pleasant scents first.”
Gretchen went to work on a lasagna dish, the whole time giving me ideas for how I could try to contact my mom. I got to thinking about the question Brent had asked me about the missing herd. Gretchen stopped in her tracks half way to the oven when she turned to me and asked, “Missing Herd? Are you thinking about the Lost Herd?”
Crap, I forgot Gretchen could read my thoughts. “Uh, yeah, what’s the Lost Herd?”
Gretchen placed the pan in the oven and said, “Sit down.”
I took a seat at the table but felt strange as Gretchen seemed very uncomfortable. She must have been digging in my thoughts because she uttered, “I see Brent has been doing some speculating of his own.” She made a sour face, and I was worried my thoughts might have just gotten him in hot water.
“He didn’t mean to. I mean . . . I don’t want him to get in trouble.”
“I’ll speak with Brent later. He obviously piqued your interest. It is nothing you should speak of, to anyone. Do you understand?”
Her voice was so firm I was worried I’d just really screwed up.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Camille. But asking questions about the Lost Herd is dangerous. No one speaks of it. Many your age have never even heard of it. I’m sure Will should be telling you this – but . . . I’ll fill you in with what I know. It isn’t much. Long ago, there was a fierce Centaur warrior named Rupert, so fierce in fact that he instigated conflict with every Centaur he came in contact with. He was hard on his young; many of his sons were killed by his own hand. Other Centaur warriors tried to intervene and help his sons; each mysteriously disappeared or died very young from seemingly natural causes. There is a blood debt to be paid if any Centaur kills another outside of battle. Many speculated, but none would openly accuse Rupert of taking out his wrath on others. By all accounts, Rupert was more beast than human, and before his thirtieth birthday he had been outcast from the community. The Centaur elders banned him and his descendants from ever returning to Centurion.”
“Centurion?”
“It’s a city in South Africa. A large community of Centaurs live there, and the elder of each family visits Centurion each year.”
“The elders? Who are they?”
“Each herd’s eldest male member is an elder and is represented at Centurion.”
“So who is our elder?”
“Camille, your father is going to have to answer your ancestry questions. I fear that if I share anything more I’ll only put my sons at risk.”
“But I don’t understand. What’s the Lost Herd, and how would my brothers be at risk?”
“The Lost Herd are the descendants of Rupert. Rupert was found guilty of crimes in absentia – he owed many blood debts that were never paid.”
It didn’t escape me that she didn’t share why she thought I would be putting my brothers at risk, but rather than press her for information I knew she didn’t want to share, I asked, “Brent seemed to think that I was part of that herd. Why would he think that?”
Gretchen chewed her lower lip. She was trying to answer me, without answering me. “You are unique, Camille. Full-blooded Centaurs can only be born between two married Centaurs. If your mother had been human, no one would give it a second thought: you would be a half-breed.
In our society half-breeds are slightly more desirable than humans but are still not considered Centaur. Most Centaurs forced to marry humans eventually leave our society altogether, and their children are unaware of their ancestry. You are a full-blooded Centaur, born of two Centaur parents who were not married. Until I met you, I would have thought it impossible.”
“So, I’m what?”
“We don’t know. News of your arrival spread more rapidly than even I anticipated. Men are very anxious to meet you, but their mothers will be cautious. I’ve asked a friend to look into your future. She can’t see it, or when she does, the outcomes are fluid. It’s as though your future is not mapped, as though the heavens forgot to write your destiny. It changes from day to day, almost as if your possibilities are endless.”
“That’s the way everyone’s futures are. Bianca told me, free will trumps fate.”
“Free will allows people to choose portions of their destiny, but yours won’t solidify enough for me to counsel you on any decision. The only thing I do know is your mother has something she must talk to you about. She won’t allow me or anyone else to relay the information. You have to practice communicating with her because whatever she needs to tell you – you need to know.”
“Do you think she knows why I’m not like everyone else?”
“I hope so, Camille. Promise me you’ll not bring up questions to others about the Lost Herd.” Her request wasn’t a request at all. I liked Gretchen, and I trusted her. I hated that she couldn’t just come right out and answer me, but I believed her when she told me I shouldn’t ask others
about the Lost Herd.
“So no Centaur has ever been born if their parents weren’t married?”
“No.”
“Not ever?”
Gretchen looked across the table at me. She shook her head. I had come to a quick conclusion, “Maybe Will isn’t my father?”
A vase full of flowers flew across the room and landed hard against the leg of the table. Gretchen and I both leaped up in our chairs, avoiding the shards of glass that sprayed in all directions. Gretchen was pissed, “How dare you!”
At first I thought she was screaming at me, as if I’d somehow hurled the vase at her. “You did this to her. You were selfish, and now you’re acting like a child!” Gretchen was furious. I couldn’t see my mother, but something told me she was in the kitchen. Gretchen started shaking as she fired back, “Maybe you should have asked him while you were alive! What did you expect her to think? What did you expect everyone to think?”
I didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire between the two, and only hearing Gretchen’s half of the conversation was more confusing than helpful. I reached down and started picking up flowers from the mangled mess on the floor. Gretchen gathered the dustpan from the pantry and squatted down to help me. She didn’t seem as angry as before, and this time she addressed me, “Camille, your mother wants you to talk to your father about his bloodline.”
We continued trying the remainder of the morning and all afternoon for me to contact my mother. Other than nearly taking a glass vase full of flowers to the shin, I didn’t have any contact with her. I can say that the lasagna Gretchen made was absolutely wonderful, and in truth the scent was better than any I’d ever smelled in my past. We tried looking at a picture of my mom. I listened to a full play list of my mom’s favorite songs. Her favorite Saturday pastime was being on the beach, so we spent time outside with some sand. None of my senses did anything but stir happy memories of my mother – none made her materialize right in front of me. By the time Will and my brothers arrived, I was exhausted. Gretchen had made a second pan of lasagna, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up my end of any conversation. I wanted to talk to Will, but from Gretchen’s reaction, I knew I needed to talk to him privately.
I found myself back in my room desperately wanting to talk to Daniel. It was still too early for him to be off work. I picked up my phone and saw I’d missed several calls from Bianca today. The guilt I’d been able to shelve all day reemerged when I saw my phone’s call log. I was still so ashamed of what happened yesterday that I couldn’t bring myself to call her back. Maybe I really would lose my newest friend to my action on the boat. If I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her, eventually she’d stop calling me.
I thought back to the time on the boat with Drake and what I’d told Daniel last night. I did initiate the contact, but I never would have if he hadn’t shoved all the images of the two of us into my head. Then it hit me – Drake’s was the first mind I had read. I hated the idea of revisiting what had happened, but when I put my hands on his face, I wasn’t just getting words or emotions, I got images – visions of us together. It was only a few seconds, but when I saw what was on his mind, I couldn’t keep my hands to myself – as if I were being magnetically pulled to him. I knew it wasn’t rational, it wasn’t even something I wanted—it was just a physical reaction. Based on what happened, touch might be my strongest sense.
For thirty minutes I tried to push images of Drake from my head, and thankfully a soft knock on my door finally allowed me to do just that.
Chapter 19
Camille Benning – Charleston, SC