Descended, page 18
“I’m not crazy,” Indigo murmured, looking deep into her eyes for affirmation.
“Not in the slightest, dear one,” she replied, “but tell me, Indigo, that puppy, that accident, is there anyone in your life now who reminds you of Banjo?”
Indigo regarded her incredulously as she glanced at the empty bed on the other side of the room. “Not Luis?” he breathed.
Sarita smiled her magnificent smile and inclined her head in a slight nod. “Do you think there may be a reason you and he were placed in the same room? That maybe you were meant to meet him? And he you?”
“I’m meant to help him.” His stomach flip-flopped.
“His guardian has been asking you for help, but you haven’t been listening.”
Indigo laughed bitterly as a sudden anger swelled to consume him. “Oh yeah? I haven’t been listening? Well, how in the fuck am I meant to hear them over all the others? I mean, I’m assuming Luis’ guardian isn’t the one telling me I’m worthless and to go slash my wrists, right?” He grinned maniacally. “Maybe it’s the one who’s been confessing to me her child’s real father is her husband’s brother? Surely it’s not the sicko who comes every night at midnight to tell me in great detail how he tortured and killed his wife and where he buried her body?! Tell me Sarita, is his request somewhere amongst the deluge of shit I’ve been forced to listen to for months – years – on end!?” He was yelling now.
Sarita caressed his hand. “Deep breaths,” she told him. “Remember, you control your breath, you control your body.” He scowled but obeyed, inhaling and exhaling steadily. “We have plenty of time to help you gain control over your telepathy and your clairvoyance,” she assured him. “But you won’t be here for much longer, dear one, so you have to help Luis now.”
“But… but how?” he asked.
“Trust in yourself. Listen to your intuition. You will know what to do. And I am here to help you.”
“But he’s so messed up,” Indigo said softly, his lack of confidence overwhelming.
“Not all wounds are meant to be healed,” Sarita told him. “We can only do what we’re meant to.” She rose to her feet, leaning in so her face was centimetres from his. “I know you can do this. You were born to do this, darling one.”
When Nurse Jenny rushed into his room a few moments later with a frantic Luis hot on her heels, she was confronted with a calm and collected Indigo, sitting up in bed, a look of determination on his face.
“You crying wolf, pickle?” she asked Luis with a sidelong glance. “He sure seems fine to me.”
The next couple of nights while Luis slept, Indigo sat at his bedside trying to figure out how to help him. He spent half the time second guessing himself, clumsily fumbling his way through. The childish innocence and trust he’d possessed when he’d healed Banjo all those years ago was long gone and hard to recapture. His mind was a very noisy place these days, brimming with self-criticism and uncertainty. But Sarita was constantly at his side, communing with Luis’ guardian, advising Indigo in her delicate way.
When Nurse Jenny knocked on his door the next afternoon to tell Indigo someone was there to see him, he swore his heartbeat increased tenfold. “I know you’ve said no visitors,” she ventured, “but he was very insistent.”
Sarita had promised someone was coming. Indigo traced a finger absently over the white stripes that ran the side of his navy Adidas tracksuit pants as he regarded Jenny. He took a deep breath, then stood shakily from the craggy armchair beside the window in which he’d been reading the Eckhart Tolle book Dr Bellamy had given him. He pulled on a matching tracksuit top, zipped it brusquely to his chin, then ran a hand through his hair. He nodded at Jenny, “I’ll see him. Where is he?”
“Outside, in the back garden,” she replied, brows shooting up in surprise he’d agreed so readily.
Nerves flickered inside Indigo’s belly as he exited the hospital and strode out into the grounds, scanning the lawn for his visitor. It would be April soon, and the snow that had blanketed the ground for much of his stay, had largely melted away. The spring sun was slowly resuscitating the brown grass back to green, and while the trees were still bare, Indigo knew they wouldn’t be for long. He spotted a lone figure on the far edge of the grounds staring towards the entrance to the forest. His back was to Indigo.
As Indigo drew closer, he saw the man was quite tall, broad-shouldered yet slender, his thick dark hair longer on top, cropped closer at the sides. He was wearing a black leather jacket, combat boots and faded black jeans. As Indigo approached him, the man turned, and Indigo was jarred with a jolt of recognition.
“Hey, buddy,” the man said, his voice warm and slow. “Remember me?”
chapter fourteen
fire and rain
indigo
“It-it’s you,” Indigo breathed. He searched the man’s dark brown eyes and there was something so familiar there, familiar in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. He had regular features, his face kind, his smile warm. There was a calmness to him, a laid-back demeanour that made Indigo feel immediately at ease in his presence. He looked to be in his early forties.
“Indigo, my name is Diego Matias Sebastian Rafael,” he said, holding out his hand, “but you can call me Raf.” Indigo took it and Raf clasped his other hand over the top, holding it warmly. “So you do know who I am?”
Indigo nodded. “Of course I do. I’ve spent months being angry at you...” he trailed off.
Raf grinned, eyes crinkling, “Yeah I know,” he said, “and now?”
“Now?” Indigo replied thoughtfully, “I’m grateful to you. I owe you everything.” He stared at Raf, holding his eye. “You saved my life.” He took a deep breath, his exhale unsteady. “Thank you,” he said simply, “thank you for pulling me from the water and bringing me to the hospital.”
“You’re most welcome,” Raf said, grin deepening. His warmth was infectious. Indigo couldn’t help but feel as though he was an old friend in whom he could confide all his secrets.
“How did you even see me jump? It was so dark that night.”
“That’s not a story for today,” Raf told him firmly, “but if you feel ready, I want you to come with me, buddy. They’ve done all for you they can here, they can’t help you anymore, but…”
“But you can,” Indigo finished for him, never surer of anything in his life.
Raf nodded. “I see you, Indigo. There’re parts of you that only someone like me can help you with.”
“Like what?” Indigo asked, teeth denting his lower lip.
“The voices?” Raf said simply.
Indigo inhaled sharply. “The pain?” he ventured, his voice small.
Raf nodded.
“And the… the visions?”
“You’re gifted,” Raf shrugged. “Your higher senses are… very highly developed.” He slid his hands into his jacket pockets and regarded Indigo quietly. “You’re able to see, hear, and feel things that other people can’t.”
Indigo nodded.
“Me too,” Raf confessed. “We’re different, Indigo,” he said, quickly adding, “that’s a good thing.” He placed his hands on Indigo’s shoulders and gave him a smile so kind it was impossible not to return. “You’re just out of control. You need help. You need guidance. I want to help you. Let me help you?”
Indigo straightened his spine, his answer coming before he had a chance to think. “Yes.”
Raf nodded. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”
As they said goodbye, he realised he would be sad to leave Luis and Jenny and Dr Bellamy, who had all done so much for him these past months. They had cared for him and nurtured him and done all they could to make him feel loved, to feel valued.
The three of them had saved his life just as much as Raf had.
They wouldn’t want him to leave, he knew that. They wouldn’t understand. They might even try to stop him.
Tonight was his last night to help Luis. He was going to have to work quickly. He needed to make it count.
luis
The next morning, Luis awoke and yawned, stretching his arms up over his head. He was drowsy. He’d been sleeping so heavily lately, as comatose as if he’d been floored by a heavyweight opponent. And his dreams were incredibly vivid – of flying, and running, and jumping, and Indigo. Indigo was always there in those dreams, surrounded by a warm golden glow that swirled to envelop Luis like a comforting embrace, seeping through every bit of him, into his very tendons and bones.
Forgetting himself, drowsy and disoriented, believing he was still in that dream, Luis sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sliding off and padding gingerly to Indigo’s bed to tell him about his dream before it vanished into the ether.
But Indigo’s bed was cold and vacant, neatly made with an air of finality. And there was an envelope propped up on the pillow, addressed to him. Luis glanced up and realised the whole side of Indigo’s room was empty. Reality began to dawn on him and his stomach dropped like a stone.
He reached out for the envelope and gasped when he realised he was reaching with his left arm. And then he looked down and realised he was standing. And that he had walked. He’d walked from his bed to Indigo’s. He’d walked across the whole damned room!
He began to holler.
chapter fifteen
dreams
harbord, new south wales, april, 1994
cordelia
“What’re you reading, honey?”
Cordelia was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her nose in a book. She glanced up at her mum, tiny in a short burnt-orange dress with long floaty sleeves, her unruly blonde hair caught back in a loose braid.
“It’s one of those weird books Drew gave her,” Robbie interjected from his place in front of the television on the other couch. “It’s probably about aliens or something.” His eyes were glued to the TV and he didn’t look up, but his tone was judgy.
“Aliens?” her mum said, her stacked bangles clinking as she straightened the couch cushions, then plonked down next to her daughter, tucking her legs up beneath her. “Since when are you interested in aliens?” Matty toddled in and climbed onto Cordelia’s lap. She kissed his head and ran her hand absentmindedly through his golden curls.
“It’s about the Salem witch trials actually,” she said, throwing Robbie a greasy look. She shuffled Matty around on her lap, moving him to the crook of her arm.
Her mother leant to pick her own book up from the coffee table. She held it up so Cordelia could see the front cover. It was the latest Sebastian Winters novel. “If you’re wondering what to read next, I’ll be done with this one soon. I can’t put it down. You’ll love the heroine. She’s got real spunk.”
Cordelia smiled. “Geez, Mum, does Dad know you’re obsessed with another man?” she teased. Her mother was always raving about the best-selling paranormal mystery author.
Her mum grinned and laid a hand on Cordelia’s cheek. “It’s nice to see you smiling, sweetie.”
Cordelia shrugged her off. “Please stop fussing, Mum, I’m fine.”
“Ha!” Robbie said from the other couch, his gaze still on the television.
“Shut up, Rob!”
Matty looked curiously from Cordelia to Robbie.
“You’ve hardly been fine,” Robbie said, glancing over at her. “You’ve pretty much been a zombie since we got back from New York.”
“Have not,” she said, burying her face back in her book, trying to pick up where she’d left off.
“Um hello?” Robbie said. “You didn’t leave the house except to go to school for like two months. You barely left your room, you pretty much stopped eating…”
Cordelia clenched her jaw, trying to ignore him.
“That’s enough, Robbie,” her mother chastised, and from the corner of her eye Cordelia saw her flash him a look. “We were all pretty low after New York. You weren’t firing on all cylinders yourself. The main thing now is Cordelia has decided to move on with her life.”
Her mum smiled encouragingly at her and Cordelia felt a wave of guilt. After Indigo had refused to see them at the hospital four months ago, she’d been a complete mess. The hurt and rejection had been completely overwhelming. All she’d done was lie in bed all day with saltwater leaking from her eyes. She’d completely lost her appetite, her stomach so filled with a writhing ball of nervous apathy, there was no room for food.
She oscillated between desperate sadness and bitter anger. When she thought of how hopeless Indigo must have felt to do what he did, she was overcome with such devastation she thought her heart might physically crack and bleed out. But then she’d think about the fact he didn’t call her, that he didn’t ask for her help or tell her what was going on, and she’d grown more and more furious with him. And then he’d had them turned away after they’d flown all that way to see him… well, that hurt more than anything.
Peyton and Sian would come over and sit on the end of her bed, trying to cheer her up, but even they got fed up with her despondency after a couple of months. One Sunday a couple of weeks ago, she’d been looking for a library book she’d forgotten to return when she came across the bag of books Drew had lent her behind a pile of dirty clothes under her dresser.
She’d sat down on her bed and opened it, gingerly reaching inside to pull out the stack of musty, battered books she hadn’t looked at since last year. She’d put aside the couple she’d read, then started to flip through the ones she hadn’t, perusing the back covers to glean a little more information about which particular far-out theory each explored. One specific book had piqued her interest and she’d lain back amongst her pillows and begun to flick through it. It wasn’t until it grew dark outside that she realised she’d spent the whole day reading. She’d forgotten how those books took her mind off things, gave her something else to think about and fixate on.
The next day at school, she’d tracked Drew down and apologised for having had his books for so long. His dimple had popped when he’d grinned and assured her it was no problem whatsoever. He’d then asked her which ones she’d read, which had led to an in-depth discussion on the Mayans and how prepared they should be for the world ending in 2012 and he’d been late for rugby training.
The next Saturday night, she’d allowed Peyton and Sian to convince her to go to a party with them. So she’d washed and straightened her hair and donned a red plaid miniskirt and a black crop top, and gone out with her friends. Drew had been there, making out with some leggy brunette in the corner. It had seemed strange being at a party, Faith No More’s Epic vibrating from throbbing speakers, everyone drinking and laughing and having fun when she felt like her whole world had caved in. She went outside because she suddenly couldn’t breathe. She wandered over the back lawn and sat quietly in the shadows, leaning back on her hands and staring up at the moon.
“You hanging out here with all your mates?” a voice said behind her. She turned and smiled when she saw Drew walking towards her, a bottle of VB in each hand.
“You’ve come up for air, have you?” she teased, leaning to adjust the strap of her black studded ankle boot.
“Huh?” he said, reddening slightly when he realised what she meant. “Oh yeah, you know, just a bit of fun,” he shrugged. He took a swig of his beer and sat down beside her on the grass. He offered her the other one and she took it. “So,” he said, staring straight ahead, “you read any more of my books?”
“I have,” she said, “and I have questions.” And so began a lively discussion on the mud floods of Tartaria that continued for so long that by the time Peyton came to find her to tell her they were leaving, most of the party had cleared out. Cordelia checked her watch and told Peyton she’d meet her out front in five.
“What happened to your friend?” Cordelia asked Drew, looking for the leggy brunette in the dwindling throng.
“Oh shit,” Drew said, looking stricken as he realised what he’d done. “Oops,” he grimaced, “I was meant to be getting her a drink…” He cupped Cordelia’s wrist so he could glance at her watch, “… like two hours ago.” He shrugged then. “Oh well, she didn’t believe in UFOs. It never would have worked out, anyway.”
Cordelia laughed. And it felt good to find something genuinely funny again.
“Hey, are you into The X-Files?” he asked suddenly.
“I’ve never seen it,” she admitted.
“Whaaaat? It’s seriously the best show ever made,” he said. “Come over next Friday, watch it with me. I’m sure I’ll be able to convert you.”
She nodded as he pulled her to her feet, then leant to kiss her cheek goodbye. She headed out the front to find Peyton and Sian. They were sitting in the gutter under a palm tree, waiting for her. She sat down beside Sian, crossing her legs at the ankles.
“So what’s going on with you and Drew?” Peyton demanded, leaning across Sian to fix Cordelia with a penetrative gaze.
“Wh-What?” Cordelia stammered. “Nothing! We’re just friends, nothing more.”
“Sure,” Peyton replied, tucking an orange curl behind her ear, “you keep telling yourself that.” She reached into her bag for a lighter and a pack of ciggies, fishing one out and flicking it alight.
“Seriously Peyts? It is possible to just be friends with a guy, you know?”
“Not one as hot as Drew Prescott. He’s a total spunk rat,” Peyton shot back, smoke flaring from her nostrils. “Those dreamy blue eyes, that cute little dimple, that totally sexy broken nose…”
“You think his nose is sexy?” Sian interjected, her face scrunched in confusion. “Like, how can someone’s nose be sexy?”
“I dunno,” Peyton shrugged, “it makes him badass or something.”
“He’s, like, not as hot as Indigo,” Sian said, her long raven hair falling sleekly over one eye as she leant forward. “But no one is. Indigo’s brutally hot.”
