Page 63 of Dark Shaman: Eternal Hope
"I understand." But her eyes said she needed this anyway, needed even the illusion of hope if that was all he could offer.
Eluheed leaned over to release some of the water that had accumulated in the tub so they could keep it running and cover up their conversation. When most of the water had emptied, he closed the drain again and took hold of Tamira's hands. "I need you to be very still and very quiet and wait until I let go of you."
When she nodded, Eluheed closed his eyes and let his consciousness drift, loosening the careful controls he usually maintained. Summoning visions hadn't been part of his shamanic training. It was something that had shown up in his family once in a few generations—a gift from a distant ancestor that had been blessed or cursed with a prophetic ability. Still, the gift hadn't manifested until after he'd been trained as a shaman, the training helping him access the veil between present and future, between what was and what might be, and peer through it.
At first, there was nothing but the familiar darkness behind his eyelids, the sound of Tamira's breathing, the warmth of her hands in his. He pushed deeper, past the surface thoughts that cluttered his mind, seeking that deeper current where visions swam like dreams drifting in the void.
The shift came suddenly, as it always did. One moment, he was sitting on the edge of a bathtub in Tamira's quarters, and the next, he was elsewhere.
The noise hit him first. Not the controlled hum of the harem or the chaos of the island's construction, but something vast and overwhelming. Horns blaring, voices calling out in multiple languages, music spilling from doorways, the rumble of relentless traffic.
The vision sharpened, bringing details into focus.
Massive screens blazed with advertisements, their light turning night into perpetual twilight. Buildings stretched impossibly tall, their windows reflecting the chaos below in fractured patterns. And the people, so many people, streams of humanity flowing in every direction, each absorbed in their own urgent journey, overwhelming, pressing.
Times Square.
He recognized it from movies, though he'd never been there himself. New York City, that monument to human ambition and excess, alive and thriving with more energy than seemed possible.
And there, in the midst of it all, he saw her.
Tamira.
But not as she was now. This Tamira wore modern clothing, dark jeans that fit her perfectly, and a soft sweater in deep burgundy that complemented her olive skin. Her hair was a little shorter, styled in soft curls that spilled below her shoulders but not down her back as it did now.
Her arm was threaded through that of a man who wasn't Eluheed, and she was gazing adoringly at him as he explained something with animated hand gestures.
For a moment, a haze of jealousy threatened to burn through the vision, but then Eluheed noticed that their hair color was identical. When the man turned and looked right at him, or rather, through his vision, Eluheed saw that his eyes were the same shade of dark blue as Tamira's. The resemblance was undeniable, and he realized that he was looking at her son.
This was Darien.
Tamira's son lived, and given the expensive clothes he wore with casual ease, he was thriving. He moved through the crowd with the confidence of someone who belonged there, and when he looked at Tamira, there was love in his eyes. He knew she was his mother, had accepted her, and had chosen to have her in his life.
She was free. They both were.
The vision held for another moment, letting him see the small details. The expensive-looking watch on Darien's wrist, his polished shoes, the ring that some men wore as a symbol of graduating from a certain university or belonging to a certain club or an association—all those were clues that might help them find Darien. Then it began to fade, the lights of Times Square dimming, the sounds muffling, until?—
Eluheed gasped, his consciousness slamming back into his body with enough force to make him sway. Tamira's hands gripped his almost painfully, her eyes searching his face.
"What did you see?" she asked.
He had to take several breaths before he could speak, his mind still reeling from the transition. "I saw you and Darien in New York. Times Square, specifically."
Her eyes widened. "I was with my son?"
Grinning, Eluheed nodded. "I saw him, and he was alive and free, living in New York. And you were with him, which means that you are going to get out of here. Our escape is going to work."
The joy that transformed Tamira's face was almost painful to witness. She pressed her free hand to her mouth, tears starting to spill down her cheeks. "Are you sure it was him?"
"The resemblance was unmistakable. The same eyes, the same mannerisms. And the way he was with you—he knew you, loved you. You somehow found each other."
"Oh." The word was more sob than speech. She released his hands to wrap her arms around herself, rocking slightly as she processed what he'd told her. "He's alive. Free. We were together."
Eluheed watched her joy, and he was happy for her, but she hadn't asked the obvious question yet. She would in a moment or two, and then her happiness would diminish.
It came sooner than he'd hoped.
The elation in her expression dimmed, her eyes focusing on his with sudden sharpness. "Wait. You said I was with Darien. Where were you?"
