Vindicate (Insight #5)(54)
Olivia turned her head from side to side as she bit her bottom lip. “Let it be, Willow. Let them chase whatever they want. For all you know, what th ey learn now may help you later. I f these so called Escorts are real they’re nothing to toy with.”
I furrowed my eyebrows as I tried to read between her words. I knew there was more to what Clarissa and Dane were up to. I hadn’t had a chance to even talk to Dane about what he remembered. Where he was while his body was in motion. I decided to trust Olivia’s vag ue explanation and worry about it once I’d faced what was in front of me.
“Obviously, they are. Do I need to remind you who I’m hunting?”
“Hunting ? A s in killing? I thought August gave you his speech on rising above that?”
“How did you know?”
“Stella. Willow, I think i f you take your anger in there i t’s going to do more harm than good.”
“I’m human, Olivia, and I’m furious. I’m beyond that emotion. I can’t even begin to explain to you how mad I am. If you th ink I am going to go into that Realm and walk up to that girl and give her some kind of counseling – tell her that she is loved in spite of her evil – you have another thing coming.”
Olivia opened the book in her hand and turned to a marked page, then read: “The irony of man is that we refuse to forgive. We refuse because we feel that act condones evil. That it places us in agreement with the wrongs done to us, but when we refuse to forg ive we disrupt the balance of good and evil that rest s in every soul. By not forgiving evil, we become more evil….”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Who wrote that?” I asked, not really interested in the answer.
“My father.”
“Seriously?” I asked as I looked more cl osely at the book in her hand. The leather was weak, the pages slightly yellow. It almost looked like a journal, but the pages were typed.
“When I was looking for that song, I went to storage. I knew my mom was a music fanatic and thought maybe it was a song sh e had heard when she was alive. I t was a farfetched idea because obviously that song has a modern edge, but still. When I was there, I found a few of their journal s , their writings, which were stored with their office stuff. This is one of them . My father’s thesis on modern myths.”
Olivia’s parents were brilliant people. Her mother was a historian. Her field of expertise was on Southern history, but she held a vast knowledge of all history. Her father was a history professor - he did teach some classes on American history, but his passion was much deeper than that. I remember listening to him tell us stories about the Indians, the Greeks, the Orient…most kids are told storie s about Cinderella, but Olivia and whoever was at her house were told myths of other times. Ones that held meaning beyond the surface. I remember Olivia and I acting out the stories when we were playing. How we would fall into the role of past myths and let them consume us.
What I admired most about Olivia’s parents – what I know my parents admired, especially my father, was how open they were. They never pushed their point of view on anyo ne, especially their daughter. They always told Olivia, eve n me, to learn. Learn everything, then decide where to let our beliefs lie. In others words, believe what you want – not because you were told, but because you truly believe it. The world was robbed the night they died. Olivia was robbed.
“As always very wise words. Ones I can only hope to understand one day.”
“There is more . So much more,” Olivia said, closing the book. “I think you are a modern myth.”
“I may be modern, but I am very real; not a myth.”
“That is not what I am saying. Listen, what you are doing now – the battles you face – the emotions – the realization –will be stories told in this dimension – Chara – for thousands of years. You are the example.”
“Example of what ? How to die?” I said, breaking eye contact with her. I didn’t want that weight. I didn’t want a nyone to remember what I’d done. How foolish I can be.
“No. How to live. I truly believe that these trials are nothing mor e than a coming of age for you. Not life and death.”
“They are hell . Not a coming of age . They hurt people, and I don’t even know why . No one does. Every m inute, another layer is added and at the same time, what I was supposed to worry about is gone.”
She moved her head side to side with frustration. “Do you deny that when these trials are over that you w ill not be a different person? That now, four trials in, you are already not a different person?”
“No. But what happens at the end ? What happens after every effect of the planets is faced?” I asked with an ever-growing disdain in my tone.
“Change . There are twelve signs in the zodiac, then the sun . Twelve. Then the light. How do you know that this is not some kind of spiritual journey ? Where you are taken f rom a girl locked in a reality to a person, a soul, which is above that . A girl that finds a way to love all, to see beauty in everything?”
“Don’t add more trials to me . Ten. Eight beyond the sun and moon . A nd how do I know that the light is not the end?”
“Seriously, Willow, every zodiac sign is ruled by a planet . Twelve, then the sun makes sense to me.” She put the book down on the back of the couch and crossed her arms. “What kind of myth do you think generations after this need? Are we supposed to just tell them that we are born with illumination? That people like Libby and Preston just came to be ? A nd people like you and me are the cavemen of history . The savages? Don’t you think that stories that show how one goes from one point to the next – stories that show life is joyful and sorrowful at the same time would have more of an impact ? That they would protect mankind from falling back into our darkest days?”