He moved forward, slightly widening his arms as if to hug me.  Yeah, right.  I quickly stepped away and walked toward the bike.  Too much disappointment in one day wasn’t good for a girl.  Anyway, the countdown to the imminent end of my life still ticked away, and we stood in the open taunting it.

“Bethi,” he said with slight exasperation.

I didn’t turn back to look at him.  “We need to keep moving.  The dreams are calling again,” I said to explain my hurry.

*    *    *    *

We found a room next to a sportsmen outlet before the sun set.  I’d managed to stay awake for most of the ride, but exhaustion tugged at me.  Once inside the room, I kicked off my shoes and landed on the bed completely ignoring Luke.

The hand hitting my face knocked me off balance.  I stumbled but spread my stance to avoid falling.

“Which one are you?” he demanded as he hit me again.  Fire lit my face; each strike had created a burning path across my cheek and jaw.

I remained silent.  My father and brother stood a short distance away and watched despite their urge to rush forward.

“What is your ability?” he roared, his anger growing.

Smack.

I struggled to maintain my mental hold on my father as the last hit broke skin and a trickle of blood ran down my cheek.  My father’s anger crawled into me as he yelled at the man to stop.  He curled his fist, and I willed my brother to lift a hand and rest it on Father’s shoulder.  Fear of the group of men surrounding us overshadowed my brother’s anger.

“Do you see lights in your mind?” my tormentor growled through his elongating teeth.

I tried again to assert my will over his.  Most people’s will felt like a thick sturdy rope, easy to grab and to hold.  Once I held someone’s will, I easily implanted thoughts into their minds as if the thought were their own.  The men around us were different.  The slim slick strand of their will slipped from my gasp.  In the half of a second I touched their will, nothing ever happened.

Smack.  I’d waited too long to answer.

“Have you seen things that helped your family become prosperous?”

Several of the men looked at my father’s wealthy clothes, a gift from my mother’s father and nothing to do with my ability.

“Do you calm those around you?”

My eyes flared slightly before I could stop the reaction.  The man hesitated.

“No,” he murmured to himself, watching me.  “You cannot be her.  Her presence is felt by everyone.  Her purpose is to calm and prevent fighting.”  He reached forward and lightly touched the open wound on my cheek.  His fingertip came away bloody.  “I would not feel so angry right now if you were her,” he added with a slight narrowing of his eyes.  “Why then did you react to the question?  Do you know where she is?”

I kept my gaze locked on his, afraid to give anything further away.  I had no idea who he spoke of.

He licked the blood off his finger with an evil smile and glanced at my father and brother.  “You are not their Hope or their Prosperity.  If you were Wisdom, you would have run when we first appeared.  You are not Peace, and Courage always dies young.”  He turned to me with a bark of laughter.  “I smell your loving father’s anger and your brother’s fear.  Yet, they remain here neither running nor fighting.  Do you find that odd, my dear?”

I kept my face carefully relaxed as I turned to look at my family.

The man stepped closer to me, his features rippling and contorting.  “Asking you questions will result in nothing answered, will it not?  Perhaps we need to ask someone else.”

Keeping my eyes locked with my father, I said, “I love you.  I am sorry.”  Tears gathered in my father’s eyes, and his panic flared within me a moment before I calmed it and pushed the urge to sleep at him and my brother.

The men behind them howled in outrage as my father and brother collapsed to the ground.  The man before me laughed.  “You will need your Strength,” he said a moment before he bent forward and viciously clamped his teeth into my shoulder.

I howled in pain and fought harder to grab his will.  As slippery as before, the thread of his will escaped my grasp.  He straightened and pulled me up by his teeth.  Another scream ripped through me.  Giving up on my attempt to hold his will, I imagined my will as a stiff unbreakable rod of metal and jammed it toward him.  Fighting for breath and control, I hammered at his thin string of will.  The pain in my shoulder grew—

“Bethi!  Wake up!”  Luke’s hand patted my cheek gently.

Pulled out of the dream, I bolted upright and flinched away from Luke’s touch.  Wide-eyed and panting, I reached for my shoulder where the echo of the bite still throbbed.  My gaze darted around the room as the dream continued to haunt me.

Luke held up his hands, looking worried.  “It’s okay. It’s me, Luke.”

I swallowed hard and wiped the sweat from my face.  “I know it’s you,” I mumbled as he sat beside me.  “Where were you?”  His promise never to leave me only lasted, what?  Two days?

He set something on top of the blanket between us.  The long wicked blade of a hunting knife caught the light.  It had a sturdy handle for a sure grip.  It made me nervous.  Why was there a knife on the bed?

“It’s yours,” he said. His gaze trapped mine.  For once, he looked unsure.  He rubbed a hand on the side of his neck in agitation.  “I thought it might help you feel safer.  I’ll show you how to use it.”  When I didn’t say anything he added, “I want you to feel safe.  I want to see the fear fade.”

I struggled with my emotions, angry that he’d left me.  I was vulnerable not just to my dreams but to anyone looking for me. It annoyed me that he still didn’t get it.

“It’s not just fear.  Imagine discovering you’re not who you thought you were, that you belong to a dangerous hidden world.  Imagine closing your eyes and seeing yourself and your loved ones die again and again.  The fear in your eyes would be eclipsed by your desperation to stop it all.”  Tearing my gaze from his, I looked at the gleaming steel.  “They are coming.  They always do.”  I reached out and touched the knife before standing.

He watched me with sad eyes.

“Thank you for the knife.  I already know how to use it,” I didn’t add that the knowledge wasn’t from this life.

A memory tickled my mind but refused to come forward.  I had the vague impression of standing in the middle of a large battle, bathed in blood not my own, as I tried to defend those who tried to defend me.  The moves, agile and sure, filled my mind without the details of who I fought or why.  I had no doubt I’d eventually recall all the details, but the vague impression was enough to make me hope that day wouldn’t come any time soon.

“The knife might help,” I said as I walked to the bathroom forcing my hand from my shoulder.  Glancing at the clock, I saw it was just after nine.

In the shower, I let myself cry.  I was beyond done with the dreams and feeling so desperate and crazy all the time.  Why was I fighting so hard to hold onto a life I hated so much?  The answer helped firm my determination.  I didn’t want to be born again into the same crappy cycle facing the same hopeless situation.  With this life, I needed to make a difference.  I rinsed away my self-pity and finished washing.

When I stepped back into the main room, Luke waited with my bag at his feet.  The knife was still on the bed but now with a holster.  His eyes roved my face as I strode to the bed and picked up the knife.  I didn’t want to see his concern.  Instead, I studied his gift to me.  I could strap the knife to my bag so it would be easily accessible, but no one would know I had a weapon because I needed to face crazed man-dogs.  Well, people didn’t know yet anyway.  So having it on the outside of the bag would make me look like the troublemaker or worse.  Moving closer to Luke, I bent and tucked the knife into the bag.  Right along the side so I could find it quickly if needed.  Convenient, yet out of sight.