***
When I was finally released from the hospital, I couldn't wait until we got home to find out what had happened to me, and so I started asking questions in the car.
"I want to know what happened at Infiniti's. And I want the truth."
Farrell shifted in his seat. Mom and Dad told him to go ahead. "Well, I, uh, told the firemen and the EMTs that I had seen a tornado touch down right by Infiniti's. And when I went into the house, I found you and Infiniti knocked out."
A tornado? Was he for real?
He cleared his throat. "And then—"
"Stop!" I blurted out. "There was no tornado, okay?"
"Dominique," Mom said. "Farrell is just telling you what he reported so you can… know the story."
We pulled into the driveway. I guess it made sense to have a story because who in their right mind would believe what really happened when I hardly believed it myself? "Fine, okay, I know the story. Now I want real answers."
When we got inside, I sat on the couch and held my hands together on my lap, my fingers digging into my skin, a lump forming in my throat. Mom and Dad stood in front of me. Farrell came and sat by my side. My face began to flush. "Farrell, you can go upstairs. This doesn’t concern you."
He didn’t budge.
"He needs to be here for this," Mom said.
I jumped to my feet. "Are you kidding me? He’s a total stranger, he doesn’t even know us!"
"Dominique, please. Hear us out," Dad said.
"No! You hear ME out! You brought me to this stupid city, and I hate it here! Everything about this place sucks, and now, because of you, I’m crazy!" Tears trickled down my face, and I wiped them away fast. "Okay? Fucking crazy! And it’s all your fault!"
Instantly I bit my lip because I regretted my words, but they were out already. Besides, they needed to know how pissed I was.
Dad paced the room. "You have every right to be upset, Dominique. We never meant for any of this to happen."
I didn’t even notice Farrell at my side until he took my hand. A soft tingle entered my body. "Dominique, I told you. You're not crazy."
My head began to swoon. My knees buckled. Every time I was near Farrell, a funny feeling came over me. Sometimes it was a subtle dizziness, other times a tingle throughout my body, but always the feeling warmed me. Calmed me. And seemed so natural and familiar. "What are you doing to me?" I whispered.
"He’s helping," Dad said. "Please, both of you. Sit."
Farrell continued holding my hand, and together we sat on the couch. My mind raced. Helping with what?
"Dominique," Dad said, running his fingers through his hair before rubbing his stubbled face, "I want you to please listen without interrupting. What I’m about to say is important, okay?"
My stomach tightened. I sucked in my breath, waiting for a punch in the gut.
"The world we know today hasn’t always been like this." He glanced at Mom. "This entire world, this planet as we know it, is called by some as New Earth, but before the birth of mankind, it was different. We call that world, the world before, the Old Earth. The Old Earth was inhabited by beings called Transhumans, beings that looked just like you and me, but had the ability to control the energy within them and around them—almost like superpowers."
"No, no, no," I whispered out loud but mostly to myself. "Transhumans? Old Earth? New Earth? I mean, come on, you guys can’t be crazy, too. You just can’t." My throat ached from the large lump blocking my tears, but I didn’t want to cry, didn’t want them to know how badly I needed them to be sane.
"Dominique, nobody is crazy," Mom said. "Nobody. Now please, let your father finish."
Dad went on. "When the New Earth was born, the Transhumans made a pact not to interfere with its history, but some broke the pact when mankind appeared. Instead of working for good, they turned, and worked for evil by corrupting the weak souls on New Earth. We call these Transhumans the Tainted. Those who honored the pact and protected mankind later became known as the Pure."
Transhumans? The Pure? The Tainted? None of it made any sense. "Why are you telling me this? And what does it have to do with me?" Panic soared through my veins because I knew it had everything to do with me. The visions, the searing pain at the back of my neck, the presence that tried to get me when we played the Ouija board…everything pointed to me.
"Dominique," Mom said. "Your father, Farrell, and I are Pures. And you, my daughter, are in grave danger."
I shook my head, fighting back the tears that bubbled just beneath the surface. My watery eyes fixed on Mom. "What do you mean?" My voice trembled, and I forced myself not to lose it. Farrell squeezed my hand. His grip grounded me, but at the same time freaked me out. I mean who the hell was he? He released his hold and sat back a little.
Did he know my thoughts?
"Dominique," Mom said. "There’s more we need to tell you. But first, you must tell us what happened at Infiniti’s."
My blood boiled. They wanted me to tell them everything? After everything they’d kept from me? "No!" I stood, my hands curled up into fists at my side. I couldn’t look at them anymore, so directed my gaze to the window instead, to the backyard that littered with leaves. Wait, leaves? Had the weather finally changed? I closed my eyes, picturing Elk Rapids in December. All the trees, except for the pines, would’ve dropped their leaves by now. The ground covered in snow. That’s when I realized how much I missed the cold, needed the cool air on my skin. More importantly, I needed to get away. I walked to the back door, refusing to look back.
"I'm outta here."
Cold air swept across my face as I made my way out the back gate, across the street, and to the lake. Mom’s words played over and over in my head. Your father, Farrell, and I are Pures. And you, my daughter, are in grave danger.
I found a bench facing the lake, and sat, crossing my shivering arms. Everything that had happened to me since moving flashed through my mind. I tried to organize the events, when it hit me. The cards. It all started with the cards at Infiniti’s. That’s when all the weird stuff started happening. Now I was in grave danger…
A drop of water landed on my cheek. The sky had filled with thick gray clouds and I couldn’t help but think the weather reflected my emotions. I wrapped my arms around my body, the scent of rain all around me. I didn’t mind the rain, or the cold; they reminded me of Elk Rapids. And so I sat while droplets of rain came down more steadily. Besides, I really didn’t have any place to go.
I crossed my arms tighter, my teeth chattering. I wasn’t sure I could last out here much longer when I heard the steady pounding of a jogger on the nearby gravel path. I raised my shoulders and lowered my head, just in case it was Farrell coming to check on me.
"Dominique? Is that you?"
I turned to find Trent. He wore black sweat pants with gaping holes at the knees, and a faded white sweatshirt. "What are you doing out here?" he asked with a smile. "It’s about to pour down rain."
"Well, it wasn’t raining when I got out here," I said, trying to sound normal.
"Yeah, I know what you mean." He laughed, and then stopped; catching on that something was up. "Um, well, can I walk you home or something?"
"No!" I called out. He raised his eyebrows, startled at my quick response. "I mean…, no. I can’t go there right now."
"Okay, well, why don't you come to my place instead? A massive cold front is coming in, and that rain’s gonna come down any second now."
I wore shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops. Goose bumps lined my skin. He was right. I needed to get out of the cold, but what about the danger I was in? I was about to say no when he took my hand.
"Come on, I don’t live far."
There was no denying the spark between us. And then I remembered I was supposed to have dinner with him the night of the Ouija board incident. "I stood you up," I said between chattering teeth. "I’m so sorry."
He laughed, and brought me closer. "You’re apologizing to me? After being hurt when a tor
nado touched down on your block?" A cool blast of air brushed past us, carrying with it a hint of clean soap that I recognized from Infiniti’s party. "You’re the most interesting person I know, Dominique." He squeezed my hand, and when he did Farrell’s face popped in my head. Guilt filled me, and I pushed the image aside. "Now come on, let’s go to my place before we freeze to death."
Trent led me to his car parked just down the street. It was an old black Camaro. Rust spotted the exterior, and a huge crack splashed across the windshield. When he opened the door, I hesitated. What if that black mist that tried to get me through the Ouija board was inside the car? What if it watched me from the tall pines that lined the lake? Shivers cascaded up and down my spine, and my entire body shook.
"Man, you’re freezing," Trent said. "Come on, I’ve got a towel in the backseat."
I lowered myself onto the seat, halfway expecting something to grab me while I sat, but nothing happened. Trent leaned over me, grabbed a towel from the backseat, and draped it over my legs. He ran to the driver’s side, hopped in, and we took off, just before the downpour.
The worn black leather interior of the car smelled like oil. The floorboards were spotless. Even the cracked windshield looked clean without any trace of dirt. "I don’t live in Rolling Lakes, but I come and jog in your neighborhood all the time," he explained as he made his way out of my neighborhood into an adjacent one. "I live over here, in Wooded Fork."
The homes were small and old. Some were well kept and pristine, like little gingerbread houses. Others looked worn and neglected. After several turns, we came to a small one-story, blue, wood-sided house with white shutters and a white picket fence. It oozed with charm, and Christmas decorations.
"Wow," I said. "Your house is beautiful."
"Thanks. I spend a lot of time on it, making it look as nice as possible for my grandmother."
"You do?" I asked, dumbstruck.
"Yeah, when I have time that is. I also work at the corner store nights and weekends when I don’t have soccer."
I stared at him in complete wonderment. Here he was, one of the nicest guys I’d ever met, dressed in ragged clothes and driving a beat-up old Camaro because he couldn’t afford otherwise. I had no idea.
We dashed through the rain to the front door and walked into a small living room with a line of windows at the back of the house. They showcased the now crackling lightning from outside. A warm color palette of creams and beige filled the house, giving it a cozy woodsy feeling. The furnishings were small, dark antiques, and I couldn’t help but think it a great house for a hobbit. A slender, medium-sized Christmas tree twinkled in the corner. It didn’t display many ornaments, but it was perfect. I hadn’t thought of Christmas at all, but here it was, alive in this house.
"Trent, I love your home," I said. And I did, because I felt safe, as if nothing could happen to me here. At least, that’s what I hoped.
"Thanks," he said. "Let me show you around.” He took my hand and led me to the kitchen. "This is the heart of our home. My grandmother spends a lot of time in here making all kinds of stuff."
Crosses of different sizes and metals lined the buttery yellow walls. A portrait of Jesus hung in the middle. The green appliances looked like they had come right out of the seventies. A large clear jar sat on the counter filled with an orange colored juice. He took a ladle and served two cups. He handed one to me. "Here, try this. It’s called agua fresca."
I raised the cup to my nose. A sweet fruity smell made my mouth water. "What does agua fresca mean?"
He took a drink. "It’s fresh fruit juice with sugar and water. This one is made from cantaloupe."
I took a small sip. He was right, it was delicious. The freshest fruit drink I’d ever had. "This is great." After a few more sips, I wondered about the rest of his family. "So you mentioned your grandmother?"
"Yeah, it’s just me and my grandmother. My mom and dad died in a car crash when I was eight, and my grandfather died of cancer five years after."
Every shred of fear inside me melted away. All of a sudden, my worries weren’t that important anymore. "Trent, I’m so sorry."
He shrugged his shoulders. "It’s okay. It was a long time ago."
An awkward silence filled the air, and I didn’t know what to say. Luckily, he noticed my still shivering body. "You’re still cold. Come on. Let me get you a sweatshirt."
I followed him to his room. When we walked in, I found it neat and orderly, just like the inside of his car. He grabbed a white sweatshirt with blue lettering and handed it to me. Rice University. I wondered if he had family that had gone there, or maybe that was where he wanted to go. I slipped it on, and the fresh soapy scent I had often smelled from Trent enveloped me.
He sat on the bed and watched my eyes scan the room. A simple dark blue quilt covered his twin-size bed. He had a desk, a nightstand, and a dresser—all dark antiques. On the desk were some books, some pads and pens, and a docking station for his iPod. The walls were bare, except for a mirror over his desk. His nightstand held a lamp, alarm clock and two pictures. I walked to the nightstand to take a closer look.
"That’s my parents," he said. "The other is me with my grandparents."
I picked up the pictures. His parents were young, maybe in their twenties. His mother looked like a movie star. She had long dark hair and exotic features. His dad had messy brown hair and piercing blue eyes, just like Trent.
The other picture was Trent and his grandparents at Disneyworld. Trent looked about ten. It was interesting to see that he hadn’t changed at all. His hair was uncombed, his clothes a mess, and he looked so happy.
"That’s us at Disneyworld," he said. "My grandparents used their savings to take me there. I’ll never forget that trip. I didn’t find out until later that we went just after my grandfather had been diagnosed with cancer."
He looked away from me, like he didn’t want to talk about it, but I wanted to say something. Before I could, he got up and turned on his iPod. Airy and ethereal music filled the air, almost dreamlike, the voice of the singer melodic and mysterious. We sat on the bed. After a moment, Trent sighed and lay down on his back, hands behind his head. I did the same. We stared at the ceiling while the music poured over us.
My thoughts turned to the conversation I had just had with my parents. And you, my daughter, are in grave danger. Everything in my body told me to leave, but I ignored it. I wanted to be here with Trent because here I was a normal girl. Not a girl with crazy parents and a crazy guy living in her house.
"So what were you doing at the lake?" he asked.
Panic seized me. I brought my hand up to my hair and began twisting. There was no way I could tell him what my parents had said. An old Earth? With a whole race of beings before humans called Transhumans? Pures and Tainted? My life in danger? He’d think me nuts, and I wouldn’t blame him. "I needed to think."
He angled his body closer to mine. Our eyes locked. The soft music encouraged me to want him. The thunder outside and rain on the rooftop forced me closer. He took my hand, untwisting the hair from my fingers.
I stared into his deep, sapphire eyes a moment when my thoughts filled with Farrell. But why? Why did I keep thinking of him? I looked away, avoiding what I thought might be a kiss. He released my hand and sat up. Even though I wanted to be normal and date a normal guy, it just wasn’t possible. And there was no way I could explain how wrong I was for him.
Trent was just about to say something, when the front door opened. "She’s early," he said almost to himself, rushing out of the room. I followed.
"Abuela, are you okay?"
It was his grandmother. "Yes, Mijo, I’m fine. I had Sister Joanne drop me off early. I was tired, and this cold front made my bones ache. I’m an old woman, you know. Besides, I always lose at bingo."
She was a small-framed woman, about eighty, with a round face and perfectly styled, black dyed hair. She wore dark green pants and a floral print sweater. A large silver rosary hung from h
er neck, and she clutched a small red Bible in her hand.
"Abuela, this is Dominique," he said.
I moved forward and noticed her eyes were a cloudy blue. She looked around the room as if searching for me.
"My grandmother can’t see," Trent said in a hushed voice.
"Yes, but I can hear just fine," she retorted, raising her index finger.
"Um, hi. I’m Dominique. It’s nice to meet you."
Her eyes landed on me. "I can hear where you are, but I can’t see you." She looked at Trent. "Mijo, can you see her color?"
I must’ve had a freaked out look on my face because Trent gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. "My Grandmother and I can see auras—mine is blue. And no Abuela, I can’t see Dominique’s." His eyes landed on mine. "Which doesn’t mean anything."
"Yes, but I should be able to see her…," her words trailed off. "Oh, never mind. Mija, come closer."
What? They couldn’t see my aura?
She extended her hand for a shake, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. I took it and she squeezed my fingers. Her hand was thin, bony, and cold from the outside. "It’s very nice to meet you, Dominique. Please, call me Abuela."
"Abuela means grandmother," Trent said.
"And Dominique means belonging to God," his grandmother said.
My mouth opened. I had forgotten that my name meant that. Now I wondered if my name somehow connected to what was happening to me. I didn’t want to be rude, but I needed to get out of there, needed to get back home, needed more answers.
"It’s nice to meet you, Abuela."
She squinted her eyes before taking a deep breath. "Your parents are worried about you."
How could she know that? I stepped away from her, afraid of what she might say next, and guilty that my parents were worrying about me.
"My grandmother sometimes senses things," Trent said. "It’s okay. It used to scare me when I was little, but really it’s nothing."
I gulped, anxiety shooting through me. "I’m okay, but I do need to go. It’s late. Plus, you're grandmother is probably right about my parents since I didn't tell them where I was going."
Trent placed his hand at the small of my back, about to usher me out, when his grandmother came up to me. She closed her eyes and took in another deep breath. I braced myself for what she might say. She opened her cloudy eyes. "Mija, what are you doing for Christmas?"
Her question surprised me. "Uh, I don’t know. We just moved here and all, and well, my parents are busy with work."
"Mija, you do celebrate Christmas, right?"
"Well, yeah, we do, sorta. We’re just not into it this year for some reason." Of course, I knew the reason. My life was in danger. My parents weren’t who I thought they were.
"Well," Trent said, "if you’re not doing anything, how about joining us for dinner and midnight mass?"
"Midnight mass?" I asked.
"Midnight mass is the most sacred mass of the Catholic Church," Trent’s grandmother explained. "It’s when we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, our Savior."
Before I could say no, Trent’s grandmother reached out and held my arm. "You must come."
Must? It was an odd word choice. My heartbeat sped up, my palms got sweaty. Going with them to a sacred mass wasn’t a good idea. I was about to say no, when her hand tightened around my arm, her grip strong for an old woman. "Please. You must come with us." Her cloudy blue eyes stared at me without blinking. "It’s where the Pures go."
I gave a small gasp. What did she just say?
"Abuela," Trent said. "She probably has plans—"
I cut him off and repeated her words. "It’s where the Pures go?"
She held me in a death grip. "Yes, the pure of heart."
The room stilled, the thunder stopped. The only sound came from a nearby ticking clock. My eyes studied hers before landing on her rosary. That’s when I remembered the card I had drawn at Infiniti’s. There are heavenly forces working behind the scenes to help you, even if you don’t see results yet.
She was right, I needed to go. "Yes, I think I can go. But I'll need to check with my parents first."
She released my arm, gave a big smile, and stared right at me. "Good."