Page 24 of The Stone Curse
She was using her wiles as a diversion. Nice.
Levi cleared his throat. “One dinner, that’s all. It was the only way for her to meet you all and deliver the real reason for her visit.”
“I thought you couldn’t tell us what to expect,” Curi said.
“I can’t,” Levi said.
“And neither can I,” Adaline added. “But I can help you prepare.” She drew a pouch from her pocket and extracted alocket dangling from a chain. “I have one for each of you. The locket contains a special concoction of herbs to allow you to fall into a deep meditative state. It is there that you must find yourselves.”
“You want us to meditate?” Curi asked. “That’sthe training?”
“It’s the only training,” Levi said. “The better you know yourselves, the more likely you are to pass the trials.”
Shar held out her hand. “Fine, let’s get on with this.”
Adaline handed each of us a locket, which we slipped around our necks.
“They must be touching the skin to work,” Adaline said.
I tucked mine beneath my T-shirt, and the others did the same with their lastonflex tops.
“Now what?” Curi asked.
“Now you take a seat, close your eyes, and relax,” Adaline said.
“I want you to focus inwards,” Levi said. “Just forget the world and focus on your own breath and the beat of your heart. Sink into those sensations.”
I found a spot on a mat and sat down cross-legged. “How long do we do this?”
“We’ll start with thirty minutes today,” Levi said. “I’ll let you know when the time is up. Don’t worry, just relax.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled, allowing my body to relax with each breath until there was nothing but me and the darkness. Nothing but me and the gentle warmth spreading across my collarbones. Nothing but the even pulse in my throat.
I floated for long moments until the darkness turned gray then amber and I was looking down at a large, pink cage sitting on a desk. There was something important inside it. Something that mattered greatly to me.
“It’s all right, love. He’s gone to a better place,” my mother said.
“No he hasn’t. He’s right there. Why isn’t he moving? Is he broken? Mumma, can you fix him?”
“No, sweetheart.”
I could see what was inside the cage now: a small white mouse lying stiff and unmoving on its side.
I knew this mouse. My buddy. My buddy Derek. Mum had named him for me because I’d struggled to come up with a name. I’d played with him every day. He’d been a four-year-old’s best friend. How could I have forgotten him? How could I have forgotten the pain of his loss?
Mum gently scooped him out of the cage.
“Where are you taking him?” four-year-old me asked.
“We’ll find a nice box and bury him.”
“In the ground?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“No. No, you can’t take him. He’ll be scared.”
Mum’s face came into view, her beautiful blue eyes filled with sadness. “He can’t be scared anymore, Cameron. Because he’s gone. This here”—she held up the dead mouse—“it’s just a shell now. The power that made it work and move and be Derek is gone.”
