Hope's Heart

Chapter Two Part One

Chapter Two

Inara awoke from another nightmare, her body trembling, heart racing, and breath labored. Her skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat. There was a pounding hum in her head. A burning sensation on her hip, radiating and almost pulsing where her birthmark is. She could hear a voice in her mind as if someone or something were calling to her. The next thing she knew, she was up and walking toward her bedroom door as if the call were pulling her toward it. All she could think was. “God no, please no, not again.” The tears began to well, burning her eyes. A part of her knew this was coming and would start soon, but she had hoped this year would be different. This had all become so familiar to her. It had started happening to her just before her sixteenth birthday five years ago. Usually, as her birthday drew near, the feeling and pull would lessen and subside. In the last two years, though, the feeling had grown stronger as her birthday got closer, getting more challenging to fight. This year, it was even stronger. It was so strong this year that it was almost impossible to resist. Last night, when it first started, it was so strong that it made her nauseous and weak. That feeling was even worse this morning. Now, it was causing dizzy spells as well.

The harder she fought the pull, the worse the pounding pain in her head. The buzzing quickly increased until it was like a swarm of mosquitoes buzzing in her ears. She clapped her hands over her ears, finally shutting out the noise long enough to win the fight. She turned to her bathroom, went in, and turned on the hot water. She got in the shower and leaned against the shower wall, letting the water wash over her. The sound of the running water of the shower would soothe and calm her frazzled nerves and drown out any remaining buzzing in her ears. The heat was the only thing that seemed to help relax her tense muscles. The steam seemed to help wash away the heavy feeling of lethargy these episodes would leave behind when they were over.

Standing under the scalding water, she heard a whispering in her mind, “Home, I must return home.” She shook her head, trying to clear the fog and confusion: “Home, I am home,” she thought, fear replacing her confusion. She got out of the shower, dried herself off, wrapped herself in a towel, and dried her hair as she walked into her bedroom.

As she absently dries her hair, she thought maybe she should tell her parents about these episodes. Perhaps there is something wrong with her. But she was afraid that when she did, they would think she was going crazy or having some mental breakdown.

Once in her bedroom, she sat at her vanity and rummaged through the drawers, looking for something for her pounding head. She picked up her hairbrush and looked into the mirror to find herself looking into the face of the second man from her nightmares. This time, though, he had a pair of glowing silver eyes. She whirled around, looking to see who was in her bedroom with her, only to find herself alone.

When she looked back at the mirror, he stood, looking at her with eyes filled with love, concern, and a soft, warm glow she couldn’t identify. His gently piercing gaze caused her heart to race. She could feel her pulse behind her eyes and in her ears. His face was even more familiar this morning than in her nightmares last night. Something made her feel as if she were looking at the face of an old friend, but she couldn’t figure out who it was or where she knew them from. Their eyes met, and his gaze had a certain intensity tempered with love, warmth, and compassion. His piercing gaze gave her a sense of calm and was almost welcoming. She heard his voice in her mind, like the gentle caress of a lover. “It is time for you to return home, fear beag. It is time for you to return home and embrace do dh ‘dhùnaidh.”

In what felt like a heartbeat, the face turned from an almost angelic, loving face to the version of Ari Devlin from her nightmares. His face was twisted, hateful, and demonic, with cruel golden eyes. Eyes filled with malice and an evil, sick, twisted smile with sharp, pointed fangs crossed its thin lips. She heard a whispered hiss: “Yes, come home, come to me, mo lòmhar, come home, to me, be mine, and we will rule together, hand in hand.” Unable to hold back the fear that was beginning to overwhelm her, she screamed, and her hands covered her ears to block his cruel voice. She collapsed to the floor and drew her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes tightly and pressed her hands harder over her ears, so hard it hurt, trying to escape from the hideous face in her mirror.

Hearing her scream, her parents ran into her room to find her on her floor, curled up, covering her ears, whispering to herself, “Home, I am home………. crazy, I must be going crazy………leave me alone, please just leave me alone.”

Her father knelt beside her, gathered her in his arms, and cradled her to his chest, “Shhh, mo ghaol bheag. What happened? Tell me what’s wrong.” He could feel the heat coming from her birthmark through the towel.

He looked at Sara over Inara’s head and saw the tears welling in her eyes as she covered her mouth and shook her head, whispering, “No, please no. This isn’t happening, not yet. We’re not ready; it’s too soon.”

**********

Ari Devlin stood before his window, with his silhouette, casting an imposing figure against the sunrise over the city. As he surveyed the city as a commander would survey a battlefield searching for an enemy, an almost blinding pain slammed into his head. The pain was so intense that he felt like he had been hit upside the head with a sledgehammer. The migraine hit so suddenly that, without any warning, it caused him to grasp the window frame for support while he grasped his head as he almost reeled from the pain. He fought the brief nausea and weakness the migraine was causing. Then, it dawns on him what is causing it and what he is sensing.

“Mr. Devlin, sir, what is it? Are you okay?” Victor Franklin approached him and rested a hand on Ari’s shoulder.

Ari turns and looks at him with a sinister grin, beginning to curl his lips, “The shroud is lifting. The child is awakening to the true powers of our world. He is here with them now.” He looks to Victor, “Find out who it is and where they are.” He straightened up, adjusted his suit jacket, and fixed his hair, ensuring every strand was back in place as he pushed the pain aside, looked out the window, and tried to sense his brother's spirit. Once he finds it, another grin curls as he forces his way into the child’s mind to figure out who the child is. Before he is given the chance to see who the child is, the child recoils from him, and the connection is lost. He whispers, “At long last, the time has come. Today, it begins. Finally, I will wipe out the last of my brother's line, and our world will be mine.”

Victor reads from a piece of paper in his hands as he walks back into the room, and without looking up, “Mr. Devlin, I contacted one of my spies from home, and they know where the child is. It is a young woman you are acquainted with.”

Ari looked at Victor out of the corner of his eye, his voice laced with suspension and confusion, “What spy? Why was I not informed of this the night they fled.” Ari turns to look at Victor, his eyes glowing red as he twists the ring on his left hand, causing intense piercing pain in Victor's head. “It is the female twin, then? What is her identity here?”

Once Victor recovered from the mental assault and caught his breath, he replied, “Yes, Mr. Devlin, I did more than one. However, the wet nurse who fled with them is the only one who remained loyal. I lost contact with her until we arrived here five years ago to try to find the chosen one ourselves. Even then, she would not tell me much. She refused to tell me which one of the children it was. She wouldn’t give me the location of the family or what names they took when they arrived here. She contacted me this morning, moments before you felt the awakening begin. I suspect she felt that if she gave me any information, I would have no further use for her. I contacted her again moments ago, and she gave me the information. The woman we seek was one of your employees. To be more precise, she is the young woman who, hmmm, now how shall I put this? She is the young woman who very colorfully declined your advances on Friday.”

“Inara Stone! Which also means the prince has been in charge of my security for the last five years?” He paused momentarily, an evil grin curling his lips again at this twist of fate. “Finally, I can put her where she belongs, in my bed. She’ll be right where I’ve wanted her since she walked through my office door for her interview. However, we will have to get rid of her father and brother. They will never let me get close to her, and that also means Steve Sheridan is more than likely Stovacore Shadowsoul.” Ari Places his hand on his chin, a lustful glint in his eyes at the prospect of finally being able to live out his depraved fantasies. The fact that he could get rid of the prince and his strongest fighter was a bonus.

Victor looked at Ari, seeing the sadistic light shining in his eyes. That same light he had seen so many times before, but this time, it seemed to affect him differently. This time, there was something else in his eyes as well. It was the look of a monster preparing for the hunt, a sick, perverted hunt, a dark, cruel hunt. One that could make you question everything, one that gave you a glimpse into the heart and mind of pure evil. One that would make even the strongest man recoil in disgust and horror, even a man who had seen death and depravity most of his life. A man who had been banished from his people for his experiments and had taken the name of Victor Franklin because of its similarity to Victor Frankenstein. That light of pure perversion and evil in Ari Devlin’s eyes made him question the path he had chosen so many years ago.

Victor quickly pushed his doubts from his mind. Trying to convince himself he had chosen the right side, was taking the right path, and how they treated him had been unjust and unfair. “Very well, shall I start the preparation to return home?”

“Indeed, begin making the proper preparations and arrangements. I, however, think I will visit my beautiful little dove. Do you have her home address?” Victor handed him the piece of paper and left the room.

**********

There was nothing but blackness around her, save for a soft, silvery light in the distance that was floating toward her. As the light approached, it shimmered and shifted like delicate fabric on the breeze. It began to take on a form of some kind. At first, it almost looked like a dragon from the fairy tales she loved so much as a little girl, with shimmering silver and golden scales. It began to shift and shimmer brightly as it took on a human form. She couldn’t see any features but could tell the features were distinctly male. As more of the elements of the figure became clear but not quite in focus, she saw he had beautiful silver wings with translucent gold membranes stretched between long silver fingers tipped with golden claws. He was surrounded by a brilliant silver glow that hurt her eyes and seemed to keep everything blurry. She looked deep into the same glowing silver eyes she had seen earlier. “Where am I? Who are you? What in the hell is happening to me?” There was no fear in her voice, but it was laced with caution at the idea of this beautiful creature before her turning into the same version of Ari Devlin it had before.

He extended a hand and helped her to her feet. “You must return home, fear beag. You must return to the place of your birth. The fate of our world, the fate of our people, rests with you.” He gently brushed his lips against her forehead. Warmth spread throughout her body from where his lips had touched her skin. He whispered tenderly, holding her hands in his. The gentle touch gave her a sense of peace and calm. All caution left her mind and left behind only love and compassion. “Find me, fear beag. Find me, and we will save our world together.” He slowly began to drift backward until he disappeared.

“Wait, do not go! Who are you? I do not understand. This is my home!” She reached out to him, but he was gone, leaving a sense of loneliness and longing for his presence. She opened her eyes slowly, unsure how long she had been out. Her vision was slightly blurry, and her head was foggy. All she could hear were whispers that seemed so far away.

She woke slowly and slightly dazed to find her father had put her in her bed after she had blacked out. Her door was slightly cracked, and she could hear her parents’ muffled whispers and her mother’s desperate sobs outside her room. Their voices seemed so far away like they were at the opposite end of a tunnel. She could make out her mother’s voice. “Art, I can’t lose her; I won’t let them have her. She’s our only daughter; she and our boys are my world.” Inara gently put her feet on the floor, stood slowly, tested her balance, and walked to her vanity next to the bedroom door.

Inara slowly brushed and braided her hair as she listened to the hushed whispers. Her mind raced as she tried to process all of this as she dressed, but it only made her head hurt again. Absent-mindedly, she pulls her tank top over her head and steps into a pair of yoga pants, her mind still foggy.

“Sara, mo ghaol, the night they were born, and we saw the birthmark, we knew this would happen, that this day would come; that’s why we ran when they were born. We left our home, family, and those who counted on us as the next ruling couple of Baile Mòr Solais. We've kept her hidden from our enemies until she was of age. You know we can’t run from this. This has been our people’s curse since Janthair’s death.” He gently kissed his wife on the top of the head. “We will have to leave as soon as possible. Her birthday is in six months, and she will need training. She must learn to harness the magic that lies deep within her. She must learn to lead our people and keep them in the light. We will get our affairs in order here and take her home.” He held his wife close to him and tried to soothe her.

“Art, what if she isn’t strong enough? What if she can’t resist the temptations of the dark? What if she becomes Teachdaireachd a `Bhàis rather than Solas Aotrom? I can’t lose our daughter. If we lose her, we’ll lose Riley too, and I can’t survive losing them both; I just can’t.” Sara buried her head in Art’s chest and began to cry hard, racking sobs that shook her whole body.

“Sara, mo ghaol, our daughter is pure of heart. We will all be there to help her resist Aridynk. We won’t allow him to plunge our home and children into darkness. We won’t be alone, and we’ll have our family, people, the elders, the gods, and the ancients there to help us keep her in the light. We must go back. If we don’t, we will surely lose them. We’ll also have your people there to help guide her and teach her.” Art rubbed his chin against the top of her head and rubbed his hand up and down her back, trying to calm her. “I’ll call Kole and Riley and tell them to get back here, and we’ll begin preparations to return home and leave within a fortnight.”

She walks barefoot to the door, pauses briefly, and places her hand lightly over her birthmark. Taking a deep, calming breath, she pulled the door open the rest of the way. “Mama, Daddy, what’s going on? What do you mean you ran from your home and family the night Riley and I were born? This is our home; I was born three miles down the road at St. Martins. And what language are you speaking? I have never heard it before.” Her voice was a whisper, and her eyes were still red and puffy from crying. “What’s going on? What’s happening to me?” Her racing mind was flooded with many questions, and she needed answers.

Sara walked up and put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder, led her downstairs, and sat on the couch with her. “Inara, leannan, this isn’t our home. Our home is far from here.” Sara looked at Art. “We need to call Steve and Wulf, let them know it’s time to return home, and have them call the others. We’ve already contacted George and Vera, and I’ll call Mal.” Art handed Inara a cup of coffee and a small fruit plate from the dining room table.

“Wulf? Do you mean Wulf Sheridan, that arrogant ass? What the hell does he have to do with all of this? I swear that man is a complete and utter ass hat. And how long was I out? You called Nonna and Pawpaw about this? Why?” Just the mention of her big brother's best friend made Inara’s hackles go up.

Steve Sheridan and his wife Beth had been her parents' best friends for as long as she could remember. Inara, Riley, and Kole had grown up with Wulf and his sister Sally. At first, at least from what she could remember, she liked Wulf; she even had a major crush on him when she was about twelve. Once she was no longer a child, he had always been right there with Kole, defending and protecting her, but for the most part, he acted like she was invisible.

She still considered him a big brother and loved him as much as she did Kole and Riley. As much as she hated to, she had to admit to herself that there had been times when he wasn’t being himself, that she would find herself wishing he saw her as a woman and not an annoying little sister. Sometimes, she could even imagine herself with him romantically, but then he would open his mouth. He was an egotistical ass and so full of himself that he strutted around like a peacock trying to attract a mate. Wulf drove Inara crazy in a million different ways, but she had to admit some of them were good ways, but she would never admit that to anyone else.

“Inara Stone, there is no need for foul language! I swear your mouth the last few days has been beyond atrocious. And yes, I mean Wulf Sheridan. His family came here with us as our protectors, as did many others. Wulf is arrogant, yes, and with good reason, but he is a good man and would give his life to protect you. And you were out for about an hour, and we contacted them because this affects them too.” Sara chides her gently.

Inara rolled her eyes and snorted. “Oh, please, Mama. You use worse language if you overcook a roast. Besides, I said hat.” She gave her mother a mischievous little smile.

Art hid a smile and choked down a laugh as he watched his wife and daughter, “She does have a point; mo ghaol, she could always say……” Sara put up a hand to silence him before he went any further.

“Yes, I know what she could have said; after all, she gets her foul mouth from you.” Sara looks at her husband with complete exasperation on her face.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the doorbell rang. He looked at the two of them, his body tensed and on full alert. “Stay here. Sara, call Steve and Wulf, and call the boys. They need to come home. Inara, mo ghràidh, you are not going to work today. You need to call and give your notice. As I said, we leave within a fortnight.” He walked to the door and answered it.

Inara's boss, Ari Devlin, was on the other side of the door. The man put Art’s teeth on edge. There was something about him that was unsettling. He was among the city's wealthiest men; any woman would do anything to get his attention. His brown eyes almost had a reddish glow. In the depths of his eyes, you saw nothing but darkness and a bitter, soulless cold. His hair was cut close to in the back and to an inch above his ear, with the top kept longer, and was black as his soul. His skin was a dark reddish tan. He stood about six foot three inches tall, and his lean, toned build reminded Art of a python. He wore a black three-piece suit, a black tie over his blood-red silked shirt, and a large ruby tie clip. The Onyx earrings and thick gold chain he wore complement the whole outfit. His outfit was finished with a pair of black oxfords polished to a high shine. He stood proudly in the doorway, an air of arrogance, confidence, and malice around him. He even carried a beautifully carved cane of African ebony wood topped with a large ruby. Hell, when he opened his mouth, Art half expected to see a forked tongue and fangs. In the year or so, Inara had worked for him; Art had watched the women who worked for him fawn over him and almost swoon when he entered the room. He seemed charming and sophisticated to most people, and women lined up to get his attention. Sure, he was very handsome to women and seemed to be the bad boy type most women fall for.

When Ari first saw Art filling the doorway with his massive frame, he was momentarily taken aback. He knew Art Stone was a large man, but he had never been this close to him. Victor had always dealt with him. Art stood at a massive six feet, five inches, and was about two hundred pounds of pure muscle. His brilliant green eyes seemed to look into Ari’s soul. Casually leaning on the door frame, his broad chest, muscular arms, and shoulders fill the home's entryway. His long, full wheat-colored hair fell over his shoulders. His jaw was angled and robust. His arms were the size of tree branches, and his legs were strong and lean. His nose was chiseled and straight. Art looked like he could easily snap a man in half.

Art felt Inara walk up behind him, and he clenched his jaw, “Mr. Devlin, what the hell are you doing here? I told you Friday I quit and to stay the hell away from me.” Art could hear the anger and hatred in his daughter's usually gentle voice.

“You heard her, sir,” his voice dripping with contempt, “now get the hell off my property.” He was about to slam the door in the man’s face when he saw Steve and Wulf walking towards the porch.

Ari turned to leave and ran right into the brick wall that was Wulf Sheridan. Wulf was a large man. He stood about six feet, six inches and was about two hundred and fifty pounds of rock-hard muscle. He had ice-blue eyes that seemed to see straight into your soul. He always wore his shoulder-length chocolate brown hair, shaved on the sides and back. The top fell to about his shoulders and was braided. He had a strong jawline, and his nose had been broken at least once or twice but was otherwise straight. He had full lips for a man, a shade or two darker than his bronze skin with a slight hint of pink. The only visible identifying marks were his many tribal tattoos. His hands were large and callused from years of hard work. His entire body rippled with muscles like a jungle cat about to pounce on its prey.

Everything about him, from his looks to how he carried himself, screamed warrior. The strength coming off him was almost tangible and commanded respect. Wulf joined the United States Navy right out of high school with Kole. They had both retired six months ago after twelve years in the service, including eight years in the Navy S.E.A.L.S. The man was the embodiment of intimidation, and the murderous look in his eyes when he looked at Ari gave Inara the chills. It was a look that promised great bodily harm or death. “Is this man bothering you and Inara, sir?” Wulf growled low in his throat at Ari, “I will gladly escort him off your property.”

Ari looked Wulf in the eyes, his expression giving nothing away of his emotions, “No need, I was just leaving.” Ari turned and nodded slightly to Art and Inara, then turned to walk to his car. “Miss. Stone, gentlemen.”

Wulf put a hand on Ari’s chest, bent his head to the shorter man's ear, and growled in a whisper only Steve and Ari could hear, “Inara said stay the hell away from her, and if you want to continue breathing, you will do just that.” Wulf looked him in the eyes, “Are we clear?”

“Crystal, Mr. Sheridan.” Ari looked him in the eye, his expression not changing. Wulf dropped his hand, and Ari sidestepped around him and walked to his car.

“Steve, Wulf, you two got here quick; I just told Sara to call you.” Art greeted his old friend.

“If she called, we weren’t home. We just had a feeling we needed to stop by. Judging from what we just walked up to and the grim expression on your face, that feeling was correct.” Steve took Art’s hand in a firm handshake; he looked at Inara, gave her a warm, loving smile, and opened his arms to her. “Do I get a hug, sweetheart?”

When Wulf and Inara locked eyes briefly, she felt warm and safe; her breath caught, and her heart skipped a beat. She feels drawn to him, and for a split second, she wants to run into his arms, but then she remembers who it is and groans to herself over her reaction to him. She walked past him and jumped into the open arms of her godfather. Steve Sheridan was about her father’s age, maybe a few years older. He was a little shorter than Wulf and had deep laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth in almost every other way, and he looked like an older version of Wulf in many ways. He was missing his ring finger and the pinky on his left hand. Inara had repeatedly asked him how he had lost them, but he would never tell her. His hair was starting to get a slight sprinkling of grey, and he had no tattoos, just several scars.

He hugged Inara tightly and spun her around, and Art smiled at her little giggle of joy. Steve set her on the ground and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes, concern replacing his smile. “Mo ghràidh, you’ve been crying; what’s wrong?” He looked at Art over her head and saw the concern on his dear friend's face. He knew; he cleared his throat and swore under his breath, “Ah, I see, it’s time to return home?” Art nodded, “We’ll begin preparations to leave within a fortnight. Wulf and I will gather what we need and return with Beth and Sally this evening. Your family can no longer go unguarded.” Steve kissed Inara on top of her head and turned to leave.