Page 119 of Wings of Lies
A delirious part of me hoped to stumble upon a Drune so it could point me in the right direction, and another part wanted to sleep more. Yet, the only part I listened to was the one that moved myfifty-pound feet, eyes glazed over, half paying attention to my surroundings for what seemed like forever.
Sometime later, my knees gave out. I fell flat into a moist pile of moss, missing a protruding root. Splaying my hands, I planned to push myself off the ground. That plan backfired when the sweet bliss of sleep took over.
I wasn’tin my body. Either that or I grew a bulge where I knew, for a fact, I didnothave a bulge before this. But as my fingers adjusted my relatively small situation in my nether regions, and I glanced at the flat expanse of my chest out of the corner of my purple-hued vision, I knew I was in a dream-walk. Although, as my scrawny arm scratched my tiny balls, I think I preferred invading my own body.
A door slammed, jerking my hand away from my crotch.Males.I took in my surroundings as much as possible without controlling this young boy’s head while he rose off the gaudy red settee.
We stood in a jewel-toned sitting area filled with golden ornamentation and fancy wallpaper. The only piece of furniture without patterns was the coffee table in front of us, holding a stack of books and a pile of marbles. I couldn’t decide if the flamboyant room was a poor style choice or if my dream transported me to the Victorian era.
“Mom! Someone’s here,” he called out. I winced, not liking the vibrations of the little boy’s voice in my head.In his head? In our head?This trapped-in-not-your-own-body experience seemed more straightforward with Aspen. But I rather invade my own body. Then, I didn’t have to contend with two sets of emotions.
Two purposeful sets of shoes click-clacked against the hardwood floors on the other side of the walls. An older blonde female entered the room, rubbing her hands on a towel and giving us a curious look.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” his mom said as another set of shoes rushed down the hall and into the room.
A dark-haired female stood in the doorway, panicked. An unusual white suit with buckles and sheaths hugged her body. She clutched the hand of a young boy in plain black pants and a grey shirt. They both had short dark hair, vibrant blue eyes, and a similar bone structure.
The blonde dropped her towel, face pale. “No, you need to go!” she said, pointing at the dark-haired lady.
Confusion that wasn’t my own wedged in between my curiosity and apprehension.
Trapped, I watched the dark-haired female storm toward the blonde, leaving the dark-haired boy in the doorway. We stared at each other, neither moving from our spots. Or, more accurately, the dark-haired boy stared at the boy whose body I invaded.
“Emily, you don’t understand.”
“I understand just fine!” Emily pointed at me, then gestured to another gaudy red chair in the corner where a little girl with ebony hair slept cuddling a porcelain doll.
The dark-haired female shook her head. “I know since you’re human, you never wanted this to be the safe house for our children. But?—”
“No buts, Miriam! How am I supposed to protect them like this?” Emily gestured to her petite frame, clothed in a blush dress—the opposite of Miriam’s lethal attire.
Our concern spiked. We walked to her, side-stepping the other female, and grasped her hand.
“The safe house doesn’t matter anymore,” Miriam said. “Originally, my son and I came here for that, but I had a vision at your front door. They know. Someone sold us out.”
We stared at Miriam’s panicked face. A navy ring circled her pupil, butting against the vibrant blue. She wasn’t human. But without the tell-tale purple ring, I didn’t know what she was.
Her panicked eyes peered down at us.
Hello, Oliver.
We jerked. Her eyes drilled into his soul, and her brows lowered with her lips.
Hello, Lucille.
Her lips never moved, but her voice was clear as day. The boy’s shock and confusion amplified my own. I was not expecting to hear words in this head, or that name, or my name. We shifted our attention to Emily, eyes wide. She looked ready to faint.
“Mom?” We squeezed Emily’s hand.
Frozen stiff with horror, she stared at the sleeping form of the tiny ebony-haired girl.
Miriam touched Emily’s shoulder. “I’ll stay with our children while you pack a bag. But make it quick. I don’t know how much time we have.”
Emily nodded, unable to speak. She released our hand, and someone banged on a door.
We all jumped. The chandelier above the coffee table shook. The dark-haired boy scurried into Miriam’s arms, and the little girl woke up.
“Mama?” she said, sitting up with her doll.
