Immortals- The Complete Real Illusions Series Read online

  The wind stirred again, then picked up with such severity that it shoved Trent off his seat onto the cold, hard floor. A green light beamed near the window, into which a ghastly image gradually emerged. Trent clenched onto the steel post which stood nearby to avoid being flung all over the room. An unusually tall, sinewy character with a hideous, elongated face stared at him from the other side through green, beaming pupils. The look in its glowing eyes depicted one of urgency and Trent knew that it was trying to communicate with him. However, no voice escaped. The ghastly image was one he had seen numerous times in his dreams and he knew that it had the answers to questions which taunted him every day of his life.

  Silence ensued for what felt like hours, but only a minute had passed before the image vanished into thin air. Almost immediately, the erratic wind ceased and electricity was restored. Rising slowly from the floor, Trent felt heavy throbbing inside his head, which prevented him from leaving the room for several minutes.

  In the hallway, he avoided Janice and Betty and headed straight for the elevator.

  Unable to focus on his work, he did very little of it. Flashbacks of what he had seen in the Archives that day consumed him.

  * 4 *

  Now catapulted from temporary madness and stunned by her own actions, Solange dropped the bloody pick and slumped to the floor quivering with fear. She knew that if they discovered what she had done - and to one of their own - she might never make it to a police station for questioning.

  Desperate to protect her freedom and her life, she decided to flee. But first, she had to clean up the bloody mess, get rid of Ferdinand's body and hope they never find it. Instantly, she carried out her plan, hoping that no one was watching. She then packed a few essentials into a brown duffle bag, leaving the remainder of her belongings in the cottage so that it would not appear that she had fled.

  Solange headed out on foot. The nearby village of Dauphin was where she would stop. She yearned to once again see the man who was there when her parents first brought her to France from America as a baby and who treated her like his very own daughter, especially since he, himself, was childless.

  She walked for miles, drawing no particular attention to herself from passing motorists. Exhausted and famished, she finally arrived at a small, fenced-in yard along the main road. After climbing the steps of the old house, Solange lightly tapped on the front door.

  Moments later, it swung open.

  "My goodness, Sol! What on earth happened to you?" Victor exclaimed upon seeing her. He was in his mid-seventies and in good physical shape.

  Solange flew into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Her long, black hair was dry and frizzled from the scorching heat. Her clothes were soaked in sweat and her muscles weak and aching.

  "Come inside," Victor insisted, taking her arm. "Tell Oncle Victor what happened." He settled her on the sofa, then quickly retrieved a glass of cold water for her from the kitchen, before sitting down next to her.

  "I killed him, Oncle. I killed Ferdinand!" She tearfully confessed.

  "Ferdinand Marquis, you mean?" Victor returned fearfully.

  "Yes. I had to!"

  Victor pulled his handkerchief from his double-breasted shirt pocket and handed it to her.

  "He tried to rape me. I couldn't let him have his way, Oncle. I had to stop him!"

  Victor stared in amazement.

  "So, after I k…killed him," Solange continued, "I buried his body in the farmyard."

  "Near the cottage where you live?" Victor probed.

  "Yes."

  "Oh, Sol! My poor child, that animal deserved it for what he did to you. Now let's hope for your sake they never find his body." He took her hand, "I know what they think of you. They would never hear you out. If you explained to them what you explained to me, they would still call you a liar and say you murdered Ferdinand in cold blood."

  Solange was still sobbing.

  "You must leave this country, child. Hopefully, they will not discover the body right away, if they do at all. But by then you'll be gone, far away from this place!"

  Victor got up and walked over to the coat rack near the front door. He pulled something out of his coat pocket, then went into the kitchen and stashed some sausages and bread rolls into a brown paper bag. Returning to the living room, he handed her the package.

  "Here, take this," he said, offering her some money along with it. "The food should take you through a day or two and the money is for your ticket to America. Go there as quickly as you can. I will take you to the airport right now myself. Believe me, Sol, there's nothing here for you but hardship."

  Solange looked at Victor lovingly, but knew he hadn't much more money than what he had offered her. "Thanks, Oncle, but I can't," she replied.

  "Don't worry, child. I'll live."

  Still Solange hesitated, yet deep inside she knew that if she didn't accept the money, she would never escape the firm hand of the law. She leaned over and kissed Victor on the forehead. "Thank you, Oncle. Thank you so very much."

  When they arrived at the airport, Solange hugged Victor tightly and thanked him again, promising to write often.

  "The code name I'll use in my letters will be Ana-Elisa. Remember Oncle, when you see that name…the letter is from me," she said.

  "I'll remember, Sol. Now go and live your life. Leave this place and its problems behind. Oh, and take this…" he retrieved a silver necklace with a cross-like pendant from his shirt pocket. He went and fastened it around Solange's neck. "It was my mother's. She said it always brought her good luck. You need it now more than I do, child."

  Surprised by the gift, Solange replied, "Thank you, Oncle. I will never take it off!" She kissed him once more, then rushed into the crowded airport. Victor took one last look at her before she disappeared into the crowd.

  Solange hurried to the ticket counter behind which a petite American lady greeted her.

  "How may I help you today?" The agent chirped.

  Nervously, Solange retrieved her passport from the bag she toted and handed it to the woman. "Are there any seats available on the flight to Miami?"

  "Just give me a moment, please. I'll check for you." The agent checked the computer and soon looked up what Solange thought to be very, very slowly. "Yes, we do have something here, actually. If you'd like, you can take the last available seat on the 4:45p.m. flight."

  Solange's eyes lit up. "I'll take it!" She handed the lady all of her money.

  The agent counted out the ticket fare, booked the last seat on the flight, then gave Solange her change. "Miss Deneuve, if you like, you can get the rest of your francs converted to U.S. dollars at the counter over there to your left." She returned the passport.

  Solange nodded appreciatively and straightaway joined a short line at the exchange counter. Within a few minutes, she was served and sitting in the departure area. She would have to wait for a couple of hours and hoped that duration would pass quickly and uneventfully. During that time, she read the newspaper, slept, and just stared into space hating the thought of what Ferdinand had done to her and the fact that because of him, she was now leaving everything she knew and loved behind.

  Later on, she glanced up at the large clock on the wall as she had done several times since sitting down. It was twenty minutes before departure time and she knew the boarding call would be announced shortly.

  Solange felt a terrible headache coming on — one of those she often suffered from as a child. Knowing what to do, she lowered her head for a while, hoping to relieve the pressure. Instinctively, she raised her head again and looked to her left. To her dismay, she spotted a uniformed police officer approaching with a stern expression on his face. Oh God, they must have found the body already, she thought. They must suspect that I've killed him! Despite her anxiety, Solange remained glued to her seat.

  She felt more anxious now. The feeling was so intense that she wished the officer would quickly arrest her and get the whole thing over with. She knew that if all else was lost, s
he would remain with her dignity; she would die with that.

  The officer was rapidly closing in. His long, lanky legs seemed to be taking him two feet per second. Shortly, Solange thought sadly, I would be handcuffed and escorted out of this building - disgraced forever. She rested her sweaty hands on her lap, lowered her head again and awaited his arrival. He was approximately six feet away the last time she checked. A few seconds later, she felt a slight breeze pass her and she looked up again. He had walked right by her, obviously having no official interest in her at all. Her racing heart began to relax and cold sweat gushed from her pores. The treacherous ordeal was over.

  Within minutes, the boarding call was announced and Solange quickly headed for the plane. It was 4:30p.m. The plane was right on schedule.

  * 5 *

  For a second time that day, Trent was lured down to the Archives by the same icy breeze he had felt before. Upon entering the dark room, the ghastly image he had seen just hours earlier immediately appeared on the far side of the room. Unsure of its intentions, Trent kept his distance.

  "What are you?" He demanded of the glowing specter.

  "I am the reason you are here…" it started with a deep, resonant voice, "…the reason you were born. Your dreams are more than mere dreams; they are a window of your past and will reshape your future." Trent stood still hoping to wake up at any moment from what he wished was a bad dream. "Beware of Tarrow - the Evil One - whom you also see in your dreams," the entity continued. "His powers are greater than mine and although dead in your world, he is very much alive in mine. If, by any means, he manages to emerge back into your world, you will be in grave danger. Heed your grandfather's warning: Fight for your life or you will be destroyed."

  "How do you know my grandfather?" Trent asked curiously.

  "He, too, saw me many times before he died, but the Evil One never appeared to your grandfather until he was taking his last breath. Fight for your life; defeat the enemy. I will watch over you, but when the ultimate battle commences, I will not be able to protect you." On those words, the image faded and like before, Trent developed a major headache.

  After returning to his office, he swallowed two pain killers with a tall glass of water, then sat at his desk in a daze.

  "Trent, where the hell were you?!" Peter asked, rushing into the office.

  "In the jon. What's the matter?"

  "Gorospe was here again. My God, you never got back to the blasted guy. He nearly tore my head off!"

  "Shucks! I forgot. What did you tell him?"

  "I told him your mother died. What the hell else would you recommend as an excuse if you were dealing with Gorospe?"

  Soon, a tiny smile surfaced on both of their faces, then a big one, then a sudden burst of laughter erupted.

  "Did he fall for it?" Trent asked on a choke.

  "'Course he did. And I convinced him to deal with me for the next few weeks 'cause you're going on vacation!"

  Trent didn't oppose the idea. In fact, he felt a little break might help to preserve his sanity.

  * 6 *

  The plane touched down in Miami exactly as scheduled the following morning. Solange was relieved. She was free!

  Her walk through the airport terminal seemed to take forever and with her bag tossed over her shoulder, she headed through the exit and into the Miami sun. With ninety dollars left in her pocket, she figured if she played her cards well, the money should last through the next couple of days. In the meantime, she knew she had to find a job - anything that would feed her moderately and pay the rent. From then on, life would progress as it pleased.

  She started on her way down the long stretch of road. Cabs sped by frequently, but none ever stopped and she really didn't mind that they hadn't. However, just like her walk to Victor's house, she began to feel the heat of the scorching sun and the length of the seemingly never-ending road. She had passed one motel, but rates displayed on the large sign out front discouraged her from stopping. She was optimistic that she would find somewhere that would suit her budget.

  Several minutes later, she heard the screeching of car tires behind her. A yellow cab with a white male as its driver pulled up alongside her. Solange glanced at him. Moving alongside her, the cab-driver gazed at Solange as the sweat sailed down her chin.

  "Hey, lady, need a ride?" He asked.

  Solange continued walking, thinking intensely of her ninety dollars. If she caught the cab, she had no idea how much farther she had to go or how much fare she would have to pay.

  "I don't have any money for a taxi," she finally replied.

  The man continued to stare at her; she was the most beautiful specimen he had ever seen. Her straight, jet-black hair, perfect, narrow features, smooth light complexion and slender figure could not be ignored. He could tell that she was a foreigner by her accent. However, despite her beauty, he was aware that he could very well pull off and pretend that he had never seen her. She could walk a dozen miles and it would mean nothing to him. Everyone for himself... that's how it normally worked these days. "Hop in. I'll take you wherever you want to go. Don't worry about the fare," he said.

  Solange stopped in her tracks. He pressed brakes. She looked at him suspiciously, then after little thought, continued walking. "No thanks. I'll walk," she replied.

  "If you're afraid that I'm some kind of freak who'll hurt you, don't be. I just wanna help. If you're looking for someplace to stay, there isn't a motel until a few more miles ahead. By then, you'll be exhausted."

  She looked at him again. His eyes revealed something that, in her opinion, seemed sincere; he only wanted to help her. She stopped again. He pressed brakes. Then she walked over to the passenger side and hopped in.

  "I'm Greg. What's your name?" The man started as they drove off.

  Solange thought quickly, "Liza."

  "Where are you from, Liza?"

  "Why? Why do you need to know that?" The question instantly triggered her suspicion. Could they have discovered Ferdinand's body already and sent this man posing as a cab driver to send me back? She wondered.

  "Let me out!" She demanded. "I want to get out, now!"

  Shocked by her sudden reaction, Greg swerved to the side and slammed brakes. Solange opened the door and started to get out when suddenly, she felt a yank of her skirt. The cab-driver pulled her back and when she turned and looked at him, he saw the terror in her eyes.

  "Liza, what's wrong? I only asked you that question out of curiosity. I don't care where you came from. All right? You don't have to tell me!"

  Just then, for some reason, Solange believed him. That feeling inside again convinced her that he could be trusted. Besides, if he was really out to get her, she surmised, he could have used a more effective strategy: Instead of inviting her into his cab on the long, lonely stretch of road, he could have easily pulled her in.

  Soon, Greg released his firm grip from Solange's tense body.

  "I'm sorry," she said, rather embarrassed.

  He looked ahead and drove on, afraid to be too quiet and on the other hand, afraid of saying anything at all.

  The drive to a cheap motel lasted just under twenty minutes and by the time Solange had grabbed her bag from the floor to leave, it started to rain. Despite the grim weather, she opened the door and looked back at Greg, reading his thoughts, as if somehow she shared them. The contact was so warm, so original.

  "Is there something you want to say to me before I leave?" She asked, holding onto the door-latch.

  "Ah... yeah; there is," Greg responded, still with conflicting thoughts bombarding him. He looked away for a moment, then back at her again. "I'm not quite sure how you'll take this, but I can read between the lines. You don't have a whole lot of money right now and renting a room in a motel for even a few days can really break you; you know? Well, what I'm trying to say is that I'd be more than honored to take you in - that is, for as long as you wanna stay. I have my own house and I live alone. It's not big and fancy, but it's clean and cozy. Couldn't ask for mu
ch more than that. I don't want you to feel like you're getting charity here or anything. I'd just like to help you."

  Solange stared at him as if expecting more.

  "I don't want you to think that I'm a pervert or anything. I've never harmed anyone a day in my life. It's just that you seem like a really nice lady who could use a little help," Greg added.

  His words charmed her like the steamy inception of a love story. Solange thought it very strange to be invited as a guest to a stranger's house and even stranger to accept such an invitation, but there was something about Greg that drew her in. "Okay, I'll come with you," she finally agreed.

  Greg was glad and Solange, knowing her current plight, was grateful.

  Two

  ___________

  AN INCH OF TRUST

  * 1 *

  Greg's house was a small, green and white concrete structure, enclosed by a clean, white picket-fence. The eastern side of the house was snuggled against thick bushes, but as Solange stood with her new housemate in the front yard, she was sufficiently impressed by what she saw.

  "Well, this is it," Greg said, hoping she liked it.

  "Very nice," Solange replied.

  He fingered the house-key from a chain of keys as they approached the door.

  "Like the porch," Solange added, feeling obligated to say something more before she entered.

  As the door was opened and the interior of the house flashed before her eyes, Solange was amazed by how tidy it was. Not a speck of dust could be seen on the furniture and the walls were adorned with paintings of all sorts.