The Intuitives(40)
“I can not tell you about my secret yet,” Ammu continued gently, “and I will not, therefore, ask you to tell me about yours. But what I can tell you is this: our secrets, both yours and mine, are not about us. I carry a secret about how the universe works, and you carry a secret about how the universe is. These are not secrets about how I work. Or about how you are.
“You are special for what you see, this is true, but the things you see are not within you. What you see in the people around you, these are things within them.
Roman’s eyes grew even more guarded. He lowered his shoulders and his head, instinctively making himself even smaller, but Ammu continued as though he had not seen his reaction.
“What you have chosen to show me here today, I thank you for. Truly. To see your gift in such a tangible way… it is a blessing far greater than you can know, especially for me. But I also know, because of the secret I carry, that what you have drawn here represents only half of the human condition.
“There are others in the world who will appear to be surrounded by darker things, more sinister things, and I understand why you would not want to share these with me. I hope you will trust me enough to do so one day, but for now, you must know that the frightening things you see are not reflections of your own mind, or of your own soul—they are true reflections of things within them, their own very real trials and struggles.
“You must not judge such people for the burdens they bear, but you must be aware of this truth, and you must have faith in your visions. Always. Do not trust the intentions of the dark ones. Only trust the light. Do you understand?”
Roman nodded, tears springing unbidden to his eyes.
“Good,” Ammu said. “Then that is enough for today. You are already much farther along your path than I ever could have hoped. We will speak again when I can share more of my own secret. But you have nothing to fear from me or from the secret I bear. This much I can promise you.”
“I know,” Roman said, glancing at the emblem that glowed over Ammu’s heart.
Ammu smiled warmly. “Then go, for now. And peace be with you.”
19
Game Night
It had been so late when they had flown in the night before that Kaitlyn hadn’t even bothered to unpack. Now, after dinner, she took the time to empty her bags, putting her clothes away in drawers, hanging up a sundress and a couple of blouses in her closet, and setting up her laptop—a treasured present from Zack at the G&G—over at the computer desk.
When she was done, she thought about picking up one of the paperbacks, but she wasn’t ready to settle in for the night. If she had been at home, she would have spent the evening listening to stories about what her father had been like when he was a child, or about what Detroit had been like in its heyday, or about what life in general had been like, for that matter, before the Internet, and cell phones, and color television.
Kaitlyn definitely didn’t feel like sitting around missing Grandma Maggie, so she wandered back out into the suite to see what the other girls might be up to. Unfortunately, Sam was the only one in the living room, and she clearly wasn’t in the mood for company.
“Hi,” Kaitlyn tried, but Sam never looked away from the television. She was watching some nature show in which zebras were trying desperately to cross a muddy river, struggling to climb over the dead, bloating carcasses of other animals that had been trapped by the steep banks and trampled to death in the process.
“Ugh,” Kaitlyn said. “That’s awful.”
“That’s life,” Sam said. “Survival of the fittest. Deal with it.”
“Yeah, but I mean, look at that little one. It’s so sad.”
“It’s not sad,” Sam retorted, her tone entirely unsympathetic. “It’s a zebra. If it makes it across, it’ll act like nothing happened. All those dead zebras will be right behind it, and it won’t care. See that one, there? That one just got out, and it’s already forgotten about the whole thing. Zebras are shits.”
Kaitlyn looked, and the zebra was, in fact, calmly grazing within sight of the massacre. Somehow, that didn’t make her feel any better.
“Where’s Mackenzie?” she asked.
“She didn’t say where she was going,” Sam said, her eyes never leaving the slaughter, “but she was dressed for a workout. She’s probably downstairs doing pushups like a good little soldier. Either that or beating the crap out of something. Hard to say.”
“Uh, OK. Thanks.”
As Kaitlyn opened the door to the hallway, Sam added, “Hey, if she’s beating the crap out of Rush, come back and get me. I’d give it even odds they’d knock each other out.”
Kaitlyn didn’t reply, but as the door was closing behind her, she heard Sam add, talking more to herself than to Kaitlyn, “I’d actually pay to see that.”
As Kaitlyn neared the workout room, she began to hear repetitive grunts accompanied by dull, forceful thuds, and soon enough she saw through the long, glass wall of the gym that Sam had been right. Mackenzie was beating up a heavy bag, using as much energy as physically possible.
She alternated among punches, elbows, and knee slams to its midsection, punctuated by the occasional kick for good measure, as she danced around the bag from one side to the other, her body constantly in motion.