of the events of the prophecy without
their help, child." Again his words were tinted with his Scottish
brogue accent. It was kind of growing on me, actually.
"What events? What prophecy ?" My
voice was beginning to quake with confusion and anger. Maybe I
didn't get my temper from my mother. Maybe, just maybe, it was
Andre here that was the source of all of my issues.
Sighing, Dylan pointed and said, "Sit. We
need to talk."
"Sit? On what?" I looked around behind me
and found two well-stuffed chairs that could have been straight
from a showroom floor. Hmm, Dad had good taste—they were lush
looking, covered in rich green-blue colors. Looking up at him in
surprise, I walked over to one and ran my hand over the closest
seat. It was like touching velvet—soft and smooth, and even cool to
the touch. "It's cool." My surprise was obvious in my voice.
"Memory foam." He nodded as I took my seat
and then he walked over to his chair and eyed it. His chair was
definitely going to give him problems if he tried to sit down in
it. Actually, getting out was going to be the problem
because of the average size. Snapping his fingers as he turned to
sit down, the chair reached out and grew to the exact proportions
that were necessary for his monstrous form. Wow. Even though
I had watched the entire spectacle, I doubted that I would be able
to convince anyone that I had seen that happen. Who would believe
me anyway? I was basically having a conversation with a god who was
now sitting in a memory foam chair that was the size of ten of my
chairs put together. The difference in the chair sizes accentuated
that I was the proverbial child and he was the...well, god.
"Look, Raven." His American accent was back
when he leaned over and rested his elbows on his huge knees. "I
wish your mother was around to talk to you about this instead of
me. She always said that you were going to make a difference, and
that she and I were good together." He shook his head as his eye
color deepened and the waves began to swirl into whirlpools of
emotions. "How a simple human woman would be able to know something
about the future like that is beyond me." Mother was definitely
not simple—I can tell without even remembering her. Why can't I
remember her?
"Where is she?" The question fell flat
because it didn't sound like I had any vested interest in finding
out. My heart knew better, though.
"That isn't really the matter at hand at
this very moment, Raven." He shook his head.
"Where. Is. She?" My words were sharp and
rude, but I kept my eyes on him for fear that he would escape the
conversation if I didn't.
Throwing me a short, guilty glance, he
turned his head away and sighed. "Look, your mother was an
extremely powerful shaman. She was incredibly talented and strong.
Her people were blessed with extreme longevity because of her
skills and even now, when she is gone, her blessing still touches
them."
I thought about that for a second. There was
actually a loud click in my head as I put a couple of impossible
ideas together. "Gabriel." Well, that made sense. Gabriel was as
old as I was and didn't look a day over 29. Being over 150 years
old really made a woman feel older than she needed to be, even when
magic held the years at bay. Well, that explained quite a bit
because, according to my memories, he was not an immortal being and
neither was I. We had both clearly been touched by the blessing
that my mother had bestowed on the tribe. On our people. Our
decrepitly old, ancient and hot people.
"So where is she, Dad?" I gripped the arms
of the chair to hold myself in place. This conversation needed to
happen in a calm state of mind or he could leave and I would never
know.
Clearing his throat, he clapped his hands
together as he continued to lean against his knees. "Communing with
the dragons."
"Dragons. Really? Seriously, Dad—this
isn't Harry Potter. There aren't dragons to be tamed. This isn't a
children's story." Huh, that was definitely out of left
their help, child." Again his words were tinted with his Scottish
brogue accent. It was kind of growing on me, actually.
"What events? What prophecy ?" My
voice was beginning to quake with confusion and anger. Maybe I
didn't get my temper from my mother. Maybe, just maybe, it was
Andre here that was the source of all of my issues.
Sighing, Dylan pointed and said, "Sit. We
need to talk."
"Sit? On what?" I looked around behind me
and found two well-stuffed chairs that could have been straight
from a showroom floor. Hmm, Dad had good taste—they were lush
looking, covered in rich green-blue colors. Looking up at him in
surprise, I walked over to one and ran my hand over the closest
seat. It was like touching velvet—soft and smooth, and even cool to
the touch. "It's cool." My surprise was obvious in my voice.
"Memory foam." He nodded as I took my seat
and then he walked over to his chair and eyed it. His chair was
definitely going to give him problems if he tried to sit down in
it. Actually, getting out was going to be the problem
because of the average size. Snapping his fingers as he turned to
sit down, the chair reached out and grew to the exact proportions
that were necessary for his monstrous form. Wow. Even though
I had watched the entire spectacle, I doubted that I would be able
to convince anyone that I had seen that happen. Who would believe
me anyway? I was basically having a conversation with a god who was
now sitting in a memory foam chair that was the size of ten of my
chairs put together. The difference in the chair sizes accentuated
that I was the proverbial child and he was the...well, god.
"Look, Raven." His American accent was back
when he leaned over and rested his elbows on his huge knees. "I
wish your mother was around to talk to you about this instead of
me. She always said that you were going to make a difference, and
that she and I were good together." He shook his head as his eye
color deepened and the waves began to swirl into whirlpools of
emotions. "How a simple human woman would be able to know something
about the future like that is beyond me." Mother was definitely
not simple—I can tell without even remembering her. Why can't I
remember her?
"Where is she?" The question fell flat
because it didn't sound like I had any vested interest in finding
out. My heart knew better, though.
"That isn't really the matter at hand at
this very moment, Raven." He shook his head.
"Where. Is. She?" My words were sharp and
rude, but I kept my eyes on him for fear that he would escape the
conversation if I didn't.
Throwing me a short, guilty glance, he
turned his head away and sighed. "Look, your mother was an
extremely powerful shaman. She was incredibly talented and strong.
Her people were blessed with extreme longevity because of her
skills and even now, when she is gone, her blessing still touches
them."
I thought about that for a second. There was
actually a loud click in my head as I put a couple of impossible
ideas together. "Gabriel." Well, that made sense. Gabriel was as
old as I was and didn't look a day over 29. Being over 150 years
old really made a woman feel older than she needed to be, even when
magic held the years at bay. Well, that explained quite a bit
because, according to my memories, he was not an immortal being and
neither was I. We had both clearly been touched by the blessing
that my mother had bestowed on the tribe. On our people. Our
decrepitly old, ancient and hot people.
"So where is she, Dad?" I gripped the arms
of the chair to hold myself in place. This conversation needed to
happen in a calm state of mind or he could leave and I would never
know.
Clearing his throat, he clapped his hands
together as he continued to lean against his knees. "Communing with
the dragons."
"Dragons. Really? Seriously, Dad—this
isn't Harry Potter. There aren't dragons to be tamed. This isn't a
children's story." Huh, that was definitely out of left
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