Oracle: The Atlantean Line Trilogy

By Lisa Forest

Bridget Davis has been running from an unknown past and an unseen enemy for as long as she can remember. All she knows is what her mother has told her: she is an oracle whose special abilities are about to manifest. But just as she is ready to begin her senior year of college, her mother dies, leaving her in the care of Dr. Cole Weber. Now, as Bridgets gifts become more pronounced, only Cole knows the truth about their origin.

Bridget feels cursed by the gifts that allow her to shape-shift into the forms of animals and see the past and future. Trusting Cole, however, she is unexpectedly thrust into the supernatural world of Greek gods and goddesses. Cole, it seems, is Eros, god of love, and Bridget is his last living descendant and a hybrid.

Unfortunately, the gods are alien impostersand Bridget is one of them. Amid visions of blood-soaked battles, vampires, and passionate betrayals, Bridget begins to see that she is the key to mankinds survival. But just as Cole teaches Bridget about her past, defends her life with the help of Athena, and rekindles their hunger for each other, Bridget finds a love of her own in the arms of another hybrid.

In this fantasy novel, passions roar to life as the dark forces of Greek myth close in, leaving a goddess with no choice but to embrace her warrior heritagebefore it is too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491704127

Lisa Forest

Lisa Forest was born in Canada but currently lives in South Carolina. She traveled extensively in her role as a flight attendant and has worked as an RN for the past eighteen years. A college graduate, she enjoys interior decorating, writing, and spending time with her children and grandchild.

Book preview

1

T he morning was cool, and a thick mist covered the boardwalk at Yellowstone’s hot springs. Bridget carefully placed one foot in front of the other as she went along. It was the first real vacation she’d ever had. Her mother had never allowed them. She stopped for a minute, listening to the muted sounds of birds chirping in the tree line on the other side of the caldera. She felt strangely at peace. It was a perfect day. Her mother had walked a little farther down the boardwalk. Bridget assumed she was scouting the terrain. She was always scouting. Bridget wasn’t worried about that now, though. She was immersed in the sounds and sights of the nature surrounding her. She breathed deeply and scrunched up her nose. The rotten-egg smell of the springs inundated her senses. Looking skyward, she saw a bald eagle on the wing. It glided effortlessly above her, and Bridget wished that she could join it in the heavens. She wanted to be a bird and fly away. The summer morning sunshine warmed her shoulders, and she smiled.

Then she heard it. Her mother’s frantic footsteps, faint at first, grew louder as she approached. In just a matter of seconds, her mother grabbed her by the arm, and Bridget’s perfect day had ended.

Run, Bridget!

What? Why?

Just go! You’re not safe.

She didn’t know why, but her feet started off as fast as they would carry her, just like every time before. They were supposed to be safe here. They were supposed to be able to stop running. But they weren’t safe. Nowhere was safe. Hearing the sound of her mom’s footsteps behind her, she looked back; her mom was trailing behind her in the mist. No one was chasing them.

Bridget stopped, out of breath and out of patience. Mom, there’s no one there. She gestured to the empty boardwalk behind her, most of it swallowed by the rising steam. Can’t you, please, just stop it? I’m tired of this bullshit! No one’s here, no one’s chasing us.

Goddamn it, Bridget, just run!

Her mother caught up to her on the boardwalk that wound its way through the hot springs. She struggled against her mother’s grasp. Her mother was trying to pull her further up the path, but Bridget remained fixed in place, the stubborn expression on her face unwavering despite the dilating pupils in her mother’s eyes.

Stop it, Mom! This needs to end. I’m tired of running from shit that isn’t there. I’m just … tired! Bridget collapsed on the wooden planks that separated her from the boiling water below.

Her mother’s arms wrapped around her. Bridget began to cry as her mom’s grip tightened. This was supposed to be a vacation. It was supposed to be a time of fun and relaxation with her mom, but it was turning out to be like every other day. She’d been running with her mom her entire life, and she didn’t know why. Her mom was always looking over her shoulder. She was suspicious of everyone and everything. Bridget wasn’t allowed to make friends. She wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone about anything more than just superficial crap. No one could know who they were, because everyone was a threat.

Bridget knew she was special—she never doubted that—but she didn’t believe that every creak in the floorboard or every person that looked in her direction was dangerous. However, as far as her mom was concerned, everyone was one of the others.

With a little prodding from Janice, Bridget lifted her chin to look into her mother’s eyes. Bridget. Baby. We have to go. Please, don’t cry. Just trust me, okay? We need to go now.

No. Bridget pushed her mom’s trembling hands away. I can’t go any farther. There’s no one here except us. Why do you have to keep doing this to me? Look—I understand the need to be cautious. I understand your need to move. I don’t understand running when there’s obviously no one chasing us.

Stop it. We don’t have time for this.

"You haven’t told me anything. I don’t know why we’re running, and I don’t know who the others are! I don’t know who my father is. Hell, I don’t even know who I am. All I know is that you keep saying I’m an oracle. So am I supposed to sit around in a smoke-filled room chanting mantras and eating lotus leaves? You tell me I’m in danger. But nothing happens, Mom. Nothing ever happens, except that we move to a new town, in a new state, and I have to start all over. I’m tired of starting over. You know, I thought that I’d get to lead a normal life at UU."

Bridget, stop, honey.

My life’s good in Ohio, but now you’re even screwing that up. Why’d you have to move up there?

You know why. Now stop acting like a child.

No, Mom, I won’t stop, because you won’t stop. Talk to me. Tell me the truth for once.

I’ve never lied to you. I’ve always told you the truth.

You haven’t given me real answers, just half truths. I want to know the whole truth for once, and I’m not moving until I get it. I’m not running anywhere until I understand.

The steam rising from the springs and mud pots enveloped them. Bridget shook her head as Janice looked up and down the boardwalk, the visibility almost nonexistent. She heard only the splishes and splashes of the boiling water and the burping sounds emitted by the mud pots. Janice sat down beside her.

I can’t tell you everything, but I can tell you more than you know now.

Okay. Who’s my father?

Not that, honey. Not now.

Bridget groaned. This was going to be no different from any other talk. She’d ask questions, and her mom would refuse to answer.

All right then, why’d you tell me to stay away from Dr. Weber? I remember him, you know. Not well, but I remember. And now I see him all the time around campus. He was always nice to me my first two years, and then you told me to stay away from him. Why?

You just have to trust me, Bridget. He’s a dangerous man. Well, he’s not dangerous, but danger follows him. Your abilities are beginning to manifest themselves, and that’ll make him want to be closer to you, but you can’t let him.

Abilities? Bridget laughed. "I know what I can and can’t do. I’m not seeing anything new, so can you explain these abilities you’re talking about, Mom? Oh and don’t talk about me being an oracle. My dreams are just dreams. I have daydreams and nightmares like any normal person. That’s not the definition of a special ability."

"I wish you’d stop saying that. They are abilities. I have them too. You get them from me … and your father. You’ve been seeing the past, but it won’t stop there. Soon you’ll be able to see the future too, just like I do."

That’s why we’re always running, because you think you can see the future? Christ, Mom.

I’ve kept you safe. I’ve kept you alive, but I won’t be able to do it forever. Humans die, Bridget.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Of course everyone dies. Bridget narrowed her gaze to a questioning squint. Are you dying? Is that what you’re saying?

I’ve been dying for a while now, honey, but I’ve made sure you’ll be taken care of.

What? Are you being serious right now? You’re dying, right. I know that every day is one day closer to death, but what you said just now isn’t funny, Mom. It’s really cruel.

Breast cancer, Janice whispered.

Bridget stopped breathing, stopped moving.

I have stage four breast cancer. I’ve got maybe three more months, but I took care of you. I have a life insurance policy in your name that’ll give you enough money to start a new life. When I’m gone, I want you to take it and leave. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. You won’t have to work, so you can use a different name. Just go somewhere new and start a new life.

They sat staring at the ever-thickening steam. Bridget let the roller coaster of emotions ride out inside her, holding them in, keeping them from playing out like a Broadway musical on her face. When she knew her voice wouldn’t crack, she broke the silence, managing to keep the emotion out of her tone.

"I’m going to finish college, Mom. I’ve never finished anything. I’ve never had the chance, but I am going to finish college."

Baby, trust me on this one. You’ll be better off if you start over.

No. Bridget’s gaze didn’t falter. No. I’m not starting over again, not this time. For the first time in my life, I feel normal, or at least stable. Before she could continue, they felt the wooden boards under them tremble.

Bridget flinched as Janice’s head suddenly turned. Her eyes strained to peer through the mist, and her mind tried to filter out all the ambient noise in the caldera. Then came the soft thumping sound of an animal’s feet slapping down upon the walkway.

Run. Her mother’s voice was barely above a whisper.

This time, Bridget didn’t argue. This time, she ran. She wasn’t convinced it was the sound of certain death, but it sent an ominous feeling throughout her body, and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. Whatever it was, she decided to take her mom’s advice.

Bridget scrambled off in the direction of the trail that led to the parking area. It seemed as though every board on the walkway intentionally tried to trip her. She stumbled, nearly falling from the wooden surface into a brilliant, blue-green hot spring. The smell of sulfur burned her lungs as she struggled back to her feet. The morning was cool, and the steam was dense because of it. She could barely see more than ten feet in front of her. Bridget lost sight of her mom in the mist, but she could hear her moving in the opposite direction. She stopped and called to her, but the only reply was a deep growl that came from just beyond her field of vision. Then a second growl rumbled through the thickening mist. It was different from the first growl, more feline.

Bridget was scared. The blood coursing through the veins in her neck seemed to freeze. She called to her mom again. No response. Terror gripped her as she turned and ran for the safety of the car. Bridget’s heart raced as her small but powerful legs carried her up the trail.

After reaching the parking lot, Bridget fumbled with the car keys, dropping them while trying to unlock the door. Her shaking hands scooped them from the gravel and forced the key into the lock. She quickly climbed in, slammed the door, and locked it. Every sound startled her, causing her to quickly look in one direction and then the next, expecting something to jump out at her. She desperately wanted to find her mom, but fear consumed her. It paralyzed her, and her inability to act angered her.

Bridget sat, gripping the steering wheel and peering at the end of the trail. One minute passed, and then another and another. Waiting helplessly was agonizing. The thought of losing her mom terrified her. Despite all the years of running and hiding and all the frustration with her mom, Bridget loved her deeply. Now she faced the prospect of losing the only constant in her life.

Fifteen minutes later, Janice appeared at the end of the trail, bleeding and nearly naked. Bridget knew what it meant; this time there was trouble. Her mom looked hesitantly to the left and then the right. Bridget unlocked the passenger side door and fired up the engine.

Mom, come on! she yelled through the crack of her barely rolled-down window. Bridget pulled to a stop at the trail’s edge, and Janice climbed in the backseat.

Where’s the backpack? Janice questioned.

It’s under the blanket. She hadn’t seen her mom naked before. She was always clothed head to foot, even at the beach. Mom, where did all the blood come from?

It’s okay, Bridget. It’s not mine. It was just a black bear, not what I’d thought.

Just a black bear. Are you telling me that you just fought a bear?

Relax and drive. I’m fine, and yes, I just fought off a bear. It wasn’t expecting me. I took it by surprise and pushed it off the walkway. It’s dead now.

Bridget looked at her mom incredulously as she wheeled the car around in the lot. Her mom used every single wet wipe in the small package that had been buried in the backpack. The more blood she wiped off, the more her skin was exposed—what was left of it.

Bridget cringed in horror as she saw the searing, red, puckered scars peek out from under the blood. They were everywhere, some more faded than others, but all of them pointed out that Bridget knew absolutely nothing of the painful sacrifices her mom had been making over the years. A new long tear in Janice’s right arm appeared over a few existing scars. Janice cleaned it quickly and concealed it. Bridget made it to the road, and the Monte Carlo fishtailed as she turned to the right, distracted from the horror show in the backseat.

Slow down!

Bridget’s eyes returned to the road. She let her foot off of the accelerator, and the back end of the car slid back into the appropriate lane.

You know, you scared the shit out of me back there, Mom. I’m still scared. I’m still shaking. I don’t think I can drive like this. Bridget pulled onto the shoulder.

Okay, I can drive, Janice said. Just give me a minute to finish dressing.

What did you mean when you said it wasn’t what you’d thought?

"I thought it may have been one of the others. Thank God it was just a bear."

Sure, right, it was just a bear. Bridget shrugged sarcastically. No one knows we’re even here. How would someone have found us? Her past convictions won out over the discovery of her mom’s marred flesh. Ugh. I don’t wanna live like this anymore. I mean it. I’m done. I’m going back to school. I’m going to graduate and get a job. Maybe I’ll even get married. But whatever I do, it won’t be this. My kids aren’t gonna grow up like this. I’m not like you, Mom. No matter how badly you wanna believe I am, I’m just not. I thought this vacation would be good for us. I thought you’d relax and we’d just enjoy our time together. I was wrong. And you’ve been wrong too. You’ve always thought you were protecting me, but you’ve been killing me a little, each day of my life. You say I can’t have a boyfriend, that I can’t have any friends. You’ve made it so my whole life revolves around you, and now you’re telling me I can’t have you for much longer. Bridget’s voice hitched, and she started to sob as the gravity of her mom’s revelation hit home. I know I have these special powers, but I don’t understand why, and you say my dreams mean something. You never tell me what. Every time I ask, you always say I don’t need to know yet or that I’m not old enough. And the only person, besides you, who has the answers is off limits to me. I need answers, Mom. I deserve them.

Bridget, trust me when I tell you that I’ll explain everything when the time is right. But for now, let’s try to have the vacation you wanted. I’ll work on having fun. I promise.

Bridget knew the conversation was over. There was going to be no explanation now or in the future. Whatever the big secret was, her mom intended to keep it and, probably, die with it.

The rest of the week passed, and Bridget had to admit that her mom had, indeed, kept her promise. They were even able to enjoy a meal in a restaurant for once. Normally, her mom insisted on eating in the hotel room. Rarely, she agreed to a picnic, but restaurants were forbidden. There were too many eyes. You never knew who the others were, if they were watching. That was Bridget’s biggest issue.

Her mom didn’t even know who they were. She had said as much. You could never know. The others could be anyone or, apparently, anything. The only thing that Bridget knew for sure was that she’d been marked. She could be spotted. The small M tattoo on her hip was a brand, an identifier. Her mom told her it identified her as special. She was a member of a special family, of which she was the last in line. She was Mnestrean, as her mom would say in hushed tones. Bridget had no idea what it meant, but she knew it was very important and very secret. She’d known she was special since she was little, that she could do things other little girls couldn’t. She didn’t like all of the cloak-and-dagger escapades that went with the moniker, but she respected her mom enough to live with her rules.

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After the vacation ended, life went back to normal, or as normal as she could have hoped for. Bridget was staying with her mom at the Shawnee reservation until it was time to move back into her dorm. She was excited; this was her senior year. She’d contemplated going to graduate school but hadn’t made up her mind. She had time to take the GRE or MCAT. And she figured by the time the testing dates came around, she’d have a clearer idea of what she really wanted to do.

As expected, Bridget’s only real friend, Abbey, had made sure they were assigned to the same dorm suite and the same dorm room. Abbey was a breath of fresh air, and she’d been the wedge that forced Bridget from the shell she’d been living in during her freshman year. Abbey just understood her and her peculiarities. She didn’t even seem to mind. The best thing was that even Bridget’s mom seemed to like Abbey. She never quashed the budding friendship, and by the end of their junior year, it would’ve been impossible to do so.

Bridget started spending each weeknight at the dorm, preparing for the fall semester, but she spent weekends at the reservation. Her mom’s cancer progressed quickly, and she was there to watch it rob them both of a little more life each day. She tried to engage her mom in conversations about the others and about her gift, but Janice either refused or was too weak to talk.

And then it happened. On August 3, Janice Davis passed away. Bridget cried—of course she cried. She was human after all. But behind all of the emotion, a part of her was relieved. The running was finally over. She could live her life cautiously without going to extremes. As much as Bridget was like her mom, she was equally the opposite of her. And now, after twenty-one years, she was finally able to make her own decisions.

Jimmy Red Fox gave Janice her last rites and arranged the funeral. He also kept the news of her death a secret. Her mom was secretive to the very end, protecting Bridget even after death.

Naturally, it had to rain that day. She stood in the cemetery, watching her mom’s casket being lowered into the ground while the tribe members sang a ceremonial chant. It was eerie, but her mom had wanted a traditional Shawnee Indian ceremony. The mixture of rain and tears made it difficult to distinguish faces amid the handful of elders gathered there. She didn’t know many of them at all, other than a few first names.

Bridget had tried to prepare for this day, but the death of her mom came so quickly. She died within a month of telling Bridget about her cancer. Her mom suffered almost every day during that month. The chemotherapy—the violent fits of nausea and vomiting, the pain, and the loss of her hair—was almost more than Bridget could bear. Now it was over.

Jimmy said a short prayer, and the mourners disbanded. That was it. As Bridget turned to leave, the emptiness and finality of it all left an aching pit in her stomach. After forty-plus years, that was it—a prayer in the rain and then nothing.

Bridget looked through the rain, which was falling harder now, and noticed a man standing beside a truck in the distance. She couldn’t make out his facial features, but the truck was unmistakable. It was Dr. Weber. Bridget wasn’t really surprised to see him standing there. He knew her mom, and although Janice wouldn’t have wanted him in attendance, there was nothing she could do about it now.

Dr. Weber was a part of her few happy, carefree memories. She remembered him being in the background, talking with her mom. What stake did he have in all of this?

She glanced down at the headstone. Janice Davis, born January 1966, died August 2010. Bridget started the long walk from the tribal cemetery to her mom’s cottage, which was obscured in a wooded area near the back of the property. She always found it funny that it was called a reservation. No one lived there, save for them. Actually, she couldn’t really remember seeing any activity on the grounds. The Shawnee either didn’t care enough or didn’t have the money to maintain the place. The cottage and outbuildings were run down, and the gravel road desperately needed more gravel to justify the name.

The puddles of water on the road had become miniature lakes by the end of the service. Bridget navigated through the maze of water hazards as best she could, but sometimes there was no way to avoid getting her feet wet. Bridget heard Dr. Weber walking up behind her long before he spoke, but she didn’t turn around.

You know, you don’t have to walk alone.

I suppose not, but my mom’s not here anymore, and I don’t feel like company. She didn’t want you around me, if you remember. Old habits die hard, Bridget thought, still following her mom’s rules. What are you doing here anyway? Are you a member of the tribe or something?

Well, it’s not like they have ultratight security. Dr. Weber smiled. Jimmy has been a friend of mine for many years. He and the other tribe members agreed to provide your mother with not only a home, but also the protection she needed in my absence.

Bridget stopped walking and faced him. Are you saying you got her this place here? Why would she do that—go through you, I mean?

Believe it or not, I’m not a bad man. I’m not dangerous.

I never said you were, and neither did Mom. All she said was danger follows you. Is that true? Bridget continued toward her house, and Dr. Weber followed.

In a manner of speaking, it is, but I haven’t been in any danger for a very long time. The truth is, your mom had some trust issues. They were manageable at first, but once she became pregnant with you, those issues got the best of her, and unfortunately you went along for the ride. I tried to stay close to you and her. I tried to help, but she chose to cut me off. She just disappeared. I found you both about a year later, but instead of interfering, I thought it best to keep my distance.

Why are you interfering now, then? Bridget’s tone became abrasive. She turned away and climbed the three steps to the front porch.

I just want you to know I’m here for you. And I’ll protect you, just like I protected her until she made me leave.

Bridget turned around to face him. That’s sweet, but I don’t really know you. And I’m pretty sure I’m done with being protected for a while.

If your mom had allowed me to be around, you wouldn’t have had to move every six months. I would’ve been able to teach you about yourself and then you’d already know everything. I know you have questions, he said, and I’ll answer them all, but it’ll take time—time I don’t have right now. You know you’re a very special girl, right?

Bridget was speechless. How much did Dr. Weber know?

Bridget mentally rolled her eyes. Sure, that’s the one thing Mom was always willing to remind me of—you know, Mnestrean and all. She wished she could stuff the words back in her mouth. She knew better than to talk about her past, most of all her connection to being Mnestrean.

Yes, you’re definitely Mnestrean, but that’s a very good thing, and you’ll come to see that if you let yourself trust me. I think it would be good if we could meet again before classes actually start. I’ve got a lot to tell you, and there’s a lot that you should know. He looked around. Do you have everything you need?

Um, yes. Mom … planned well.

Janice had more friends than you know, and you have more friends than just me. She didn’t view everyone as negatively as she appeared to.

She never mentioned any friends, and I’m sure she wished I didn’t remember you. Don’t you find that strange? If she trusted them and trusted you, then why not tell me about them? And why would she tell me to stay away from you? Bridget’s brow furrowed.

Because they would eventually lead you back to me. Your mother knew that. I wish I could explain more now, but I think it’s best to wait. Here’s my card. I’ve written my cell number on the back, just in case you need anything. I have something for you. Bridget craned her neck as Dr. Weber reached into the watch pocket of his tweed vest. This belonged to your mother at one time. I believe she would’ve wanted you to have it. Bridget extended her hand to the professor and accepted the small silver locket with the Greek letter omega on the front casing.

Thanks. Bridget stuffed the locket in her pocket. He patted her shoulder and turned to leave. Dr. Weber? I do have one question you can answer. Are you my father?

The skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled and shook his head. No, Bridget, but I wish I was. You’re a remarkable young lady, and I’d be proud to have you as my daughter. I’m sorry I wasn’t more involved in your life. Please call me Cole, though. ‘Dr. Weber’ makes me feel like I should be in class. Bridget smiled in return and then stepped inside her house and closed the door.

He wishes he was! She smiled again. Bridget pulled the locket from her pocket and rubbed the engraving. It was obviously an antique. The engraving appeared to have been carved by hand. She flipped it over to examine the back. The engraving on the back said Happy 5th Birthday. It was too precise to have been done by hand. Bridget opened the locket and stared at a picture of her mom. She was a child and was standing with Bridget’s grandmother.

Cole was also in the picture. She gasped, and her legs turned to jelly. Cole wasn’t a child in the picture. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought the picture was taken yesterday. Cole looked exactly the same. Bridget’s mind reeled. She snapped the locket shut and barely made it to the couch before she passed out.

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Bridget was looking down at her own crumpled body sprawled out on the couch. Was that even possible? Everything was so tranquil. Even her floating seemed effortless. The light grew dim in her mind, and she found herself standing at what appeared to be a palace. There was a meeting taking place, but it wasn’t occurring in this era. All of the people in attendance wore gowns and togas. Their feet were shod with sandals. It was so hot the scorching heat beat off the ground. Everything was white—their clothes, the columns, the seating. They sat in in a semicircle in a large room that was open to the outside, much like an amphitheater. A man stood at a podium, and the others stared at him as he spoke aggressively.

Bridget moved around the room slowly, looking at each of their faces. This didn’t feel like any of the feathery daydreams she’d had before. It felt real. As she flitted about the room, her presence seemed to go unnoticed. After realizing this, she moved in a little closer, still feeling the need to maintain some space between her and these people.

The looks on their faces told her she’d interrupted a heated debate, but the sound was muted. One man had a seat in the middle of the stage. His was more like a throne and was larger than anyone else’s. When he spoke, he seemed to roar, and all of their eyes drifted toward the floor. She sensed their fear. It was permeating the space as if they were sweating it. All were affected except one man. The man at the podium was arguing with the leader sitting on his throne. Waves of anger poured off the large man on the throne. Bridget shifted her weight and started to move toward the man standing at the podium.

The closer she got the more positive she became—it was Dr. Weber! Why was he in this dream? He was dressed to match the others, fitting in perfectly. She almost expected him to recognize her, but instead he continued arguing, never once looking in her direction.

Instinctively, her eyes scanned the others again. Mixed in with the unknown faces was Abbey’s soccer coach, Sarah. Why were they both in this dream? What was this? Had she completely lost her mind? Bridget moved back and forth, shifting her weight to move in the direction she wanted to go. She looked at all of the faces again. None of the others were familiar, but there was no mistaking Dr. Weber’s and Sarah’s faces.

Soon the meeting was over, and Dr. Weber was quickly walking outside. Sarah followed not far behind him. Dr. Weber and Sarah were talking, obviously engrossed in conversation, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. The voices all sounded as though they were underwater. Bridget moved in close enough that she could’ve reached out and touched them, hoping she might be able to read their lips, but it didn’t work. Instead, everything blurred and then went black.

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Bridget opened her eyes and stared at the textured ceiling. She was disoriented. It took her a moment to realize she was lying on her mom’s couch. The dim light peeking through the curtains was her first indication of the amount of time that had passed. It was dusk now. She glanced at her watch and realized she’d been out of it for more than two hours.

If she had been sleeping, then she didn’t feel rested. Bridget sat up gingerly and moved to stand. Her legs felt weak. She was used to having daydreams, but this one bothered her. It had literally knocked her out. She didn’t remember making a conscious decision to lie on the couch.

All of her other dreams involved random people she didn’t recognize. Now she was dreaming of Dr. Weber and Coach Sarah. It was even more peculiar that Dr. Weber had just given her a locket with a Greek letter on it. And then there was that picture. She felt a shiver run up her spine.

Anyone could Photoshop it to look like that. She was unable to convince herself this was the case. She was tempted to open it again but resisted, afraid of the consequence. She just wanted to go to bed without seeing another vision. She’d definitely have more questions for her old family friend than she’d previously anticipated. She looked around the room and groaned. The packing would have to wait until morning.

2

W ho are you? Do you even know anymore?

The thought echoed in Cole’s head like the sound of his razor clinking on the porcelain sink, echoing in the bathroom. He knew who he was, and no matter how hard he tried to forget, he’d always remember. The countless names and titles were all there at his instant recall. You see, that’s the problem with being immortal. You always remember, Cole ruminated. He thought about the locket he’d given to Bridget two days prior.

Foolish pride leads to foolish endeavors, Cole ruminated.

The soft slapping of a red maple branch against the window jolted Cole back to the present. Today was a busy day, an important day. The slapping of the red maple grew louder against the window as the wind picked up. After a few more scrapes of the razor, he grabbed the umbrella and a jelly doughnut and was out the door.

Rain was falling now, and Cole was walking to campus. Autumn in Ohio was a wonderful time of year. The maple, shag bark hickory, and buckeye trees were just beginning to change colors. It was a pleasant walk to the university. The light rain made it less pleasant, but the short trip down College Way, past Browne Hall, was a quick one, and he enjoyed it nonetheless.

It was amazing how the campus was growing but managed to maintain its small-college appeal. Freshmen wandered back and forth with their noses stuck in maps, trying to find Oak Hall or the Moore Math and Science Center. It always struck Cole as funny that someone would need a map to get across a campus that a strong boy could heft a football across. In reality, it was slightly larger than that, but not by much. Cole slowly ambled past Barclay and Bailey Halls and turned toward the Swedenborg Library. Just past the library was Oak Hall.

After bounding up two flights of stairs to the third floor, he was finally in his office. There was no mail in his mailbox, so he headed back downstairs and over to The Hub. It was a small café the students often gathered in. The Hub attracted less student and teacher traffic now that the new student center had been built. It was quiet, and he knew Bridget often relaxed there between classes. He figured if he was going to catch her before classes, this would be the place.

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Bridget saw Dr. Weber approaching The Hub through the large plate glass windows. He walked in, adjusted his tweed vest, and made his way toward her. She couldn’t help smiling as he approached.

Interesting read there, Bridget. Can I join you?

She nodded. Dr. George wanted us to get a head start on his classics class, and this isn’t the easiest story to follow.

You know, it might help if you took my Greek mythology course this semester. Having a historical perspective may help you with your literature. Do you have a three o’clock class?

Yeah, I do. Sorry. I’m already booked with Western Civ II. I need the humanities credit.

Well, my course would meet that requirement too and would help you kill two birds with one stone, at least for part of the semester. I could tutor you on the rest if you meet me here for lunch. Say on Wednesdays?

Are you serious, Dr. Weber—I mean Cole? Bridget was intrigued.

Well, Greek history is more interesting than you may realize.

Bridget took this opportunity to change the subject to one that had been plaguing her. So when were you planning on enlightening me about my mom’s mysteries? She raised her eyebrow, challenging him to laugh it off and tell her he was just joking about the whole thing. Mom mostly hid stuff from me, but she did tell me I dream things and that the dreams weren’t really dreams. I didn’t believe her. Well, I didn’t put any stock in them until you gave me the locket after her funeral. Something … happened. It was a moment before she continued. "Something happened to me when I opened it. I had a vision. The word sounded odd coming out of her mouth. And you were in it. I also noticed you were in the picture with my mom and grandma. What did you do, have a graphic design major tweak the photo? It doesn’t make sense otherwise."

Cole didn’t say anything, so Bridget continued. You were an adult, Cole. You looked the same then as you do now. How’s that possible? I mean, that picture is close to forty years old. I figured you to be about my mom’s age—but that picture? What am I supposed to make of it? Why’d you alter it?

Bridget, this is going to be hard for you to comprehend, so I’m not going to tell you everything at once. It’ll take time, but if you trust me, you’ll have answers to all your questions.

Okay. So tell me then. I’m a big girl. I can handle the truth.

I know you can. I just don’t know how to begin. This would be much easier if Janice had let me be a part of your life. Bridget waited as he seemed to take a cleansing breath. Okay, here it goes. That is me in that picture—unaltered—and I’m much older than your mother … or your grandmother.

So, how old are you?

I’m about twenty thousand years old, at least.

Bullshit! Look, if you aren’t gonna tell me the truth, then we ought to just forget about all this. I don’t need anyone else hiding things from me, or someone making crap up to win me over.

I’m not lying, Bridget. Let’s leave that alone for a minute though. Tell me what you saw in the vision. It may help clear things up. If it doesn’t, then I’ll fill in the details.

She searched his face for a hint of deception but didn’t find it. Hesitantly, she continued. I saw a meeting. I saw you standing at a podium. I saw you arguing with a huge man with long, white hair. And I saw Coach Sarah. It doesn’t make any sense.

That’s not as strange as you might think. Sarah’s as much a part of this as I am.

So, what, she’s twenty thousand years old too? Bridget gave Cole a you’re crazy look.

No, she’s a little over twelve thousand years old. But trust me and don’t get hung up on the age thing. Take my hand, and I’ll tell you about that meeting. If a locket was enough to cause that vision, then actually holding my hand should do the same, only in more detail.

She stared at Cole for a moment, wondering how any of this could actually be happening. Then she pointedly took his hand.

As Cole began to speak, Bridget watched the meeting unfold before her eyes. His voice seemed to fade, and the café, the booths, and the waitress all blurred as she became lost in the picture unfolding around her. It didn’t take long to figure out that she wasn’t just a bystander. She was a participant in this vision. She was seeing everything from Cole’s point of view, feeling his emotions and hearing his thoughts. Bridget became Cole.

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Aphrodite’s voice was calling Eros, reminding him of the upcoming council meeting. The sound droned in his ears like an unwelcomed mantra. Eros, where are you? Eros heard a woman call from across the courtyard of his villa.

I’m here, in my laboratory.

He’d been studying the genetic makeup of the human