THE EVERLAST SERIES: Books 1-4

Chapter 19

19

Around six in the morning, we were already on the road. This time I welcomed the intoxicating mix of the guys’ scents to daze me. It was a little easier than dealing with the images that loomed behind my closed eyes.

Near Jacksonville, the cities and towns weren’t only dirty and deserted, they seemed destroyed or in ruins. My stomach tightened. Jacksonville wasn’t much different. Houses stood without roofs, buildings with broken windows and doors, trees had fallen in the middle of the streets, and parks were littered with shattered benches and destroyed playgrounds. In short, it was a mess, like the rest of the country.

When Victor stopped the car in a large abandoned parking lot, I gaped. “It can’t be here.”

He checked the business card once more. “Well, that’s the address.”

Before us, a low building that reminded me of a manufacturing plant stood alone—or half-stood, since most of its windows and roof and some of the walls were in ruins.

“There’s no one in there,” I said, eyeing Micah from the rearview mirror. “Is there?”

Furrowing his brows, he nodded. “Someone’s there. Let’s go.” He opened the back door and jumped out of the car.

Before following him, I scanned the area. Even in the daytime it was dark, and the street lamps were like the nearby buildings: broken. I didn’t want to run into any bats even if Micah could repel them.

Tugging my jacket closer, I left the car with Victor right behind me. I glanced skyward. At least it wasn’t too chilly down here.

Side by side, the guys and I walked to what seemed the main door of the rundown building. When we entered, I saw the interior was as devastated as the exterior, at least in the first room. Micah jumped over chunks of wood and what was left of cushioned seats, and reached a door in the back. Different from the others, this door was whole and clean.

Before opening it, he waited for Victor and me to approach. Together, we entered a tidy reception room complete with a desk in front of another door, chairs, a sofa, and a blaring TV.

A receptionist greeted us. “How can I help you?” She wore a fake smile. Her red hair definitely came from a bottle, and her chubby cheeks were nothing compared to her belly. She was wearing a black mini dress, three sizes too small. The heavy cloud of perfume she wore couldn’t cover up her strong, too sweet stench. I almost threw up.

“We’re here to see Morgan Holt,” I said, stepping closer to her.

“Do you have an appointment with him?” she asked, her fake smile wavering.

“No.”

“Then you’ll have to come back another day.” She grabbed an organizer from her desk. “We can schedule a date now. Tell me what this is about.”

Yeah, right. “It’s urgent, ma’am. Could you please call him?”

“Everyone’s problems are urgent,” she snapped.

Before I could snap back at her, a young black guy came out of the door I wanted to enter. He was dressed in a white robe.

“Miriam,” he started, but stopped when he saw us. “May I help you?”

“I need to see Morgan Holt,” I said, turning my back to the receptionist and throwing some charm at the young man. I flipped my hair and batted my lashes, hoping my green eyes would do the trick—all things that I had seen Raisa doing before. She would be proud of me.

He smiled at me. “Do you have an appointment?”

Oh, here we go again. I stepped closer to him, moving my shoulders as if I were uncertain of what to do. “I don’t. But, you see, I need to see him. My friends and I came from New York to talk to him.”

“New York. Really?” he asked, still smiling. “I love New York, though I haven’t been there in five years.” He showed me the door, beckoning for me to come with him. “How is the city?” he asked as we crossed the door’s threshold.

While we walked, he told me his name was Carl and he was one of Morgan’s assistants, though I still had no idea what they did.

About fifty feet down the corridor there was a large staircase. Carl led us down the stairs to the basement.

“You flirt,” Micah whispered in my ear when Carl was busy opening another door for us. Sure, I was flirting a little, but I would use every trick I had—or thought I could have—to figure out what was going on with my visions and with Micah, Victor, and me. I shrugged and waved him off just as Carl turned back to me.

We entered a large room with many cushioned chairs along the wall.

“Wait here, please,” he said, walking toward the white double doors in the back of the room.

Frowning, Micah came to stand right beside me, staring at the doors.

Before Carl had taken a few steps, the doors opened and a blond man in white robes came out, staring straight at Micah.

“Morgan Holt,” I whispered, recognizing the man from my vision. He looked older in real life, about fifty-something, with highlighted blond hair down to his shoulders, and big, round brown eyes. Not too tall, but slim.

“By the gods, you three are like fireworks,” Morgan said, sounding much younger than he seemed. As if in disbelief, he gaped at us. “Who are you?”

“Hi, Mr. Holt, we—”

“Mr. Holt is my father,” he said. “I’m just Morgan. And you are?”

“Nadine. And this is Victor and Micah.” I motioned toward them, then tried again. “Morgan, we need your help.”

“Why would ones like you need my help?” he asked. There was a musical accent to his speech I could not pinpoint, but his definition of us was what caught my attention.

“Ones like us?” I asked. “What are we?”

“You tell me,” he said, raising his arms in exasperation. “I’ve never felt auras like yours.”

“Yeah, see,”—I curled my hair around my finger—“we don’t understand this aura thing.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, examining us. I felt like a monkey in a cage getting ready for an experiment. “All right, come to my office.” He led us to a side door into his tiny and cramped office.

He beckoned toward one of the only two chairs, indicating I should sit, while he took the second one. Before I sat I glanced back, making sure the guys were with me. And my breath was knocked out of me. Looking like seductive perfume ad models, Victor and Micah leaned against the wall. Victor stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, and Micah crossed his arms over his black leather jacket. Good God.

Trying to focus, I turned back to face Morgan. “Thanks for receiving us.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Morgan propped his legs on his desk. “I’m just curious about your auras.”

“As are we,” I said.

“You talk as if you can’t sense them.”

“I can’t, but he can.” I pointed to Micah, who nodded to confirm it.

“I see.” Morgan squinted, studying us. “And why are you here?”

“We need your help.” Suddenly I felt like a guilty woman getting ready to confess a crime. My chest tightened as the ridiculousness of the situation hit me. I almost laughed out loud. “Things we don’t understand have been happening, and someone said you could help us.”

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, getting up. “What I do?” I shook my head, embarrassed. Tsking, Morgan turned to the wall behind him and, from the floor, grabbed what look like a rolled rug. “I’m a priest. A priest of a forgotten creed.” He unrolled the rug and hung it on screws on the wall.

When he retreated, I gasped.

I think he was about to explain the drawing but noticed my reaction and waited. I stood and walked toward it.

It was the throne room of the crystal palace, showing the thrones lined up and the gods and goddesses elegantly seated on them, holding their staves. Levi was in the middle, Ceris on his right, Mitrus on his left, then Imha and Omi and the others I didn’t know. Under them there was a large symbol.

“I know them.” I ran my fingers over the drawing.

“You do?” Morgan asked, his eyes wary.

“This is Levi, Ceris, Mitrus, Imha, and Omi.” While saying their names, I pointed to each respective figure. “I don’t know the others’ names.”

With wide eyes, he said, “The others aren’t as important. They aren’t lesser gods either, but the ones that make the big decisions are the ones you named. How do you know them?”

I glanced at Victor and Micah, scared of revealing my secret to a stranger. I swallowed and said, “I have visions about them.”

Morgan’s big round eyes became even wider. “You do?” He sounded excited. “Do your visions become real?”

“Well, I kept seeing this guy in my visions, and he told me everything about himself. Then, I met him in person.” I pointed at Victor. “He didn’t know me, but I know all about him. And there was the episode of the burned town in Switzerland. I saw it happening. It was Omi. He threatened the nymphs on a lake nearby. The nymphs didn’t give him the information he sought, so he killed them and wiped out the city.”

“Really?” Morgan’s eyes gleamed in awe. “You do know what they are patrons of?”

I glanced back at the beautiful drawing in the rug. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, Levi is the god of life, balance, and spirit. Ceris is the goddess of love, family, home, and beauty. Omi is the god of war. Mitrus is the god of death, the underworld, and the dead. Imha is the goddess of chaos and discord. And the others”—he pointed at them in the drawing—“are the god of the sun and the day, the goddess of the moon and the night, the goddess of nature and seasons, the goddess of entertainment and arts, and the god of magic.”

Intrigued by its familiarity, I stared at the symbol on the lower part of the rug. I squinted, examining it. It was white, like it was made of crystal, and composed of a thick circle and, in the center, the sign of infinity, which started shining when I set my eyes on it.

“Did you see that?” I asked, pointing to the symbol.

“See what?” Morgan asked.

But I didn’t answer. I tilted my head and saw it clearly; the infinity sign was the number eight lying sideways.

I stumbled back, my breathing coming in little snatches of air. “I’ve seen this symbol as long as I’ve had visions.”

“This is the creed’s symbol,” he explained. “The pantheon’s name is Everlasting Circle. We believe our gods are the true and only gods who exist. The others—Egyptians, Greeks, Celts, Mayans, and even the Christian God—are all based on the Everlasting Circle. However, with the appearance of other religions and myths, the Everlasting Circle was forgotten.”

“But why do I have visions about it?”

“If your visions are about the past, present, and future …” Morgan paused, reaching to a smaller rolled rug under his desk. He opened it over his desk. I gasped again.

The rug contained a drawing of three identical women with silver hair and gray eyes, wearing simple white dresses.

“I saw them with Ceris,” I whispered. “Who are they?”

“They are the Fates. Their names are Mani, Nay, and Lavni. Or, the past, the present, and the future, respectively. And, if what I’m suspecting is true, you have the Destiny Gift, a rare gift from them. In fact, I thought it was only a legend, or an idea.”

“What? Why?”

Morgan smile widened. “I have no idea, but this is exciting!”

“I’m not excited,” I almost shouted, then retreated to my guys. “I’m confused.”

“So,” Micah spoke up. “You’re saying the things she sees are true?”

“Probably.” Morgan shrugged.

Oh God, so now what? Imha would t*****e me until I died to tell her something I didn’t even know. I would rather die now, without any suffering.

“But why would I have these visions?” I sat down on the chair so the world would stop spinning around me.

“A warning?” Morgan rolled the smaller rug up again. “Did you know your aura isn’t as strong as theirs?” He pointed to Victor and Micah.

“What do you mean?” Victor asked, finally speaking since we had arrived. He stood behind my chair.

“Your aura.” Morgan looked at Victor. “And his.” He pointed at Micah. “Are inexplicable. I’ve never heard of auras like yours. Now yours,” he said, looking at me, “it’s strong, stronger than all I have seen, but it’s nothing compared to theirs. So, perhaps, your aura shines because of your gift.” He looked at the guys again. “Now I wonder why your auras are so much stronger.”

I closed my eyes, feeling a headache coming. “Still, it doesn’t explain why I would have this gift, or whatever this is.”

Morgan sat in his chair. “Like I said, perhaps the Fates want to warn you of something that’s to come. Or maybe something that happened they need you to look into.”

“But what?” The strength drained from me. I was so tired of thinking about this, of trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

“Why don’t you tell me about your visions—which ones seemed more vivid?” Morgan asked.

I held a laugh back. “All of them.” I told him about the first vision of the gods, the one about Levi and Mitrus disappearing after a fight, since it was the first vision I’d had out of the dream Victor pattern, but Morgan didn’t let me continue with the others. He paced in his tiny office.

“By the Everlast, so it is true,” he exclaimed.

“By the Everlast …?” I whispered, not following.

Morgan waved me off. “It’s an expression, associated with my creed.” He clasped his hands together. “We call the crystal palace you described the Clarity Castle. And that object they used to kill each other, it’s not a spike. Those are evil objects they aren’t allowed to make.” He laughed, sounding giddy. “Don’t you see? Your vision shows what happened thirty years ago. That’s why the world is in chaos. My acolytes and I have been saying Imha took over, but we weren’t sure about it. We have been praying for Levi to regain control and balance the world once again, though we had no idea what happened to him. “This”—he pointed at me, and I assumed he meant my vision—“explains the darkness, the chaos, the evil that took over the world.” Morgan’s face was blanketed by worry and realization. “I can’t believe he’s dead. It can’t be. Imha will destroy this world if she stays in power. What else do you know?”

I gulped, kind of embarrassed about being in the spotlight. “I think Ceris is hiding, and Imha and Omi are hunting her.”

“Of course, with her lover out of the picture, she would be next,” Morgan mused, resuming his pacing. “And I would bet my life Ceris is trying to find a way to bring Levi back.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Victor asked, startling me. Not that I could ever forget his strong presence and his delicious scent, but he was so quiet and stoic sometimes, it was hard to think he had any emotion or interest left.

Morgan tapped his fingers on his desk. “I’m trying to think. There must be a reason Nadine is having these visions. I just can’t figure it out.”

Neither could I. And my life just might depend on finding the answer.