The True Face Of Destiny

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Cassandra had been doing small jobs for six months now. She was trying to help her sister pay for any expenses that the family home might incur. Her father, Thomas Crowley, went missing for almost a year on a humanitarian trip to Colombia. He was probably kidn*pped by a group of extremist rebels, no one had ever tracked him down. As his body was never identified, his death could not be made official.

But for Cassandra, life went on. She dropped out of college, and she went to Colombia to help with the searches, but everything was in vain. She and her sister were left with uncertainties. They couldn’t’t grieve. The hope of seeing their father safe and sound was diminishing day by day. At 22, she found herself ripped apart from both parents. Her mother had died after giving birth to her. After the delivery, there have been some complications that the doctors could not explain.

It was the first Friday of June and almost 8pm. The restaurant was practically empty except for a few regulars. Cassandra called them her suckers. They seemed glued to their chairs. She peeked at her watch. She was impatient. She looked up at the front door, which remained closed. She should have finished her shift for at least a good thirty minutes. Her colleague had still not arrived and had not given any sign of life. She really started to get worried about this situation. Her feet were in excruciating pain, and she had already worked a considerable number of hours.

— Do you know if Jenny called to say she would be late? she asked her colleague Billy, who was busy in the kitchen.

— No, I don’t think so, he answered.

Cassandra, in spite of herself, sighed. She began to bite the nail on her right thumb. A bad habit she had developed when she was anxious or under pressure. She grabbed a cloth and mechanically scrubbed the counter. She made another lap around the customers with her coffee carafe and settled back behind the bar.

The large door to the "Rose Cafe" opened, but disappointment quickly replaced hope of Jenny coming in when Cassandra saw a man approaching the bar to sit on one of the empty stools. He smiled coldly at her while she handed him a menu, which he promptly pushed aside.

— Just a coffee Cassandra, he said.

— How do you know my name? she asked surprised.

— It's written on your name tag, he said pointing at the small cardboard pinned on her uniform at the chest level.

Cassandra felt ridiculous. She eyed the man while she was pouring coffee in the cup that she had placed in front of him. She didn't remember seeing him before. He must have been older, which she found particularly attractive. It was uncommon to see such distinguished people at the “Rose Café”. He was tall and athletic. He wore a white shirt under a black jacket and a tie of the same colour, everything matched. It was too perfect for her. His face was aesthetically beautiful. His eyes, somewhat almond-shaped and a light blue like Cassandra had rarely seen, showed no emotion. His nose was short and thin, while his mouth was slightly plump, which seemed to lessen the sternness he exuded.

— It’s a bit unfair that you know my name and I do not know yours, said Cassandra teasingly.

— My name is John, he answered relentlessly.

Judging by his tone, he didn’t’t want to continue this conversation. Cassandra stopped and returned to the kitchen to try to find the notebook containing the number of all the employees. She tried to call Jenny, but without any success. The door finally opened and her co-worker gasped.

— I know! I am late. There was an accident with injuries on my way here. I forgot my phone and I had to go back home. They had added a detour, and they closed the road because a truck had spilled diesel. Or something like that!

— I was going to call the police, Cassandra joked.

She smiled and left. She had waited for her for too long. The man left a five-dollar bill next to his steaming cup, got up and discreetly followed Cassandra out.

She walked with a slow and heavy tread. She loved to admire the houses from the street, one of the oldest neighbourhoods in the city. She easily imagined all the things that these buildings could tell her if they were to talk. Arriving in front of the large oak tree that overlooked the sidewalk, she smiled when she saw two squirrels who seemed to be quarrelling over some fruit. She didn't notice the black sedan with tinted windows following her at a reasonable distance.

Cassandra lived a few streets away from the restaurant, in her father's house. Her heart skipped a beat every time she thought of him. There were so many unanswered questions since his disappearance. Her eyes were often clouded with tears, but she didn't talk about it with her sister or even with her friends, Kristen, and Brian. She was very discreet about her feelings and the events that rocked her life.

She walked up on the stairs that led to the front door of the family home. An ancestral, imposing residence, all in old red brick. She opened the door with her key, entered the house and went straight to the telephone to check if she had any new voicemail messages. Only one caught her attention; it was from a certain John Travis. The display indicated that he had tried to call her at least ten times. He left only one message in which he said that they must meet and talk; it was something urgent. She had never heard of him, so she didn’t’t bother to call him back.

The doorbell rang loudly throughout the house, which in turn, startled Cassandra. She wasn’t expecting anyone. And she hated it when people came to her house unannounced. She gently pushed aside one of the curtain panels from the kitchen window and, to her amazement, she saw the man she had served earlier at the Rose Café. She was seized by a sort of panic. Her head was full of questions. It was obvious that he followed her, but why? Was he a serial killer? He rang again. He kept insisting and had no intention to leave. Cassandra couldn't escape; he had probably seen her enter the residence and he knew she was in the house. She opened the door, but only for a few inches.

— Did you follow me here?

— Is it that obvious?, John answer sarcastically.

Cassandra was about to close the door at this remark which lacked delicacy. He continued:

— Wait. My answer was absurd. I apologize. I admit that I have followed you here, but it’s not what you are thinking. I already had your address...Please, let me in. It’s important.

— I do not have the desire to know a stranger who just showed up at my door after tailing and stalking me... Right now, I want you to leave immediately or I will call the police.

Cassandra took her cell phone out of her pocket and waved it menacingly in front of John. She had no real intention of calling the emergency services, but, if necessary, she would.

— My name is John Travis. I have tried to contact you all day long...

Cassandra recognized the name of the man who had tried to call her endlessly. A duel was playing out in her head. Curious by nature, she wanted to let him come inside, but fearful, she dared not allow it, in case he wanted to attack her. She had given up to curiosity and opened the door to let the man in. She intended to end this increasingly ridiculous scene once and for all. It was unlikely for her to be killed by him in broad daylight.

John followed Cassandra into the living room and, being the perfect gentleman that he was, waited for her to sit down before doing the same. He put his black briefcase beside him, which he always carried.

— So, what do you want?

— I do not even know where to start. What I am about to tell you will seem a little crazy, even preposterous…

— Do it like in all the books, start at the beginning.

John looked at Cassandra carefully. The moment he was waiting for so many years had arrived. He had to choose his words wisely to explain to this young women what she really was. She had lived the last twenty-two years sheltered from this world unknown to man. He envied her innocence. He gazed at her face. She was so pretty. Her black hair tumbled over her shoulders and her equally dark and penetrating eyes often wandered. His eyes rested for a few seconds on her lips which were full, almost a natural red, which contrasted with her white skin. He wanted to compare her to Snow White. Cassandra was petite. She looked frail and not very tall. She didn't seem to have the physical condition for the job.

— Last night, a young woman named Patricia Wolf died...

— Are you a police detective?

— No…

— But what does that have to do with the story?

— May I go on? If you stop me at every sentence, we will still be here tomorrow morning, he snapped.

Frustrated, Cassandra crossed her arms. She was not a patient person. She even loved to check the last page of a book before choosing one, to see if the ending was worth reading. Her friends made fun of her for doing that.

— I am all ears! she answered sarcastically.

John cleared his throat and rubbed his chin mechanically.

— Okay, I will start over. Try not to interrupt me. Patricia was on a mission. She had extraordinary abilities. She had an incredible strength that allowed her to defend the widows and the orphans. You see, Patricia was not like me or like your friend or other members of your family. She was like you. I am trying to find my words to tell you the rest of the story, without you taking me for a madman… Promise me, I am begging you to listen to me until the end, without interrupting me…

— And why would I do that? I find your introduction very long. Come on, I’m listening!

— Can you please let me finish? Without interrupting me.

Cassandra nodded quickly. John paused for a few minutes to think about the rest of his story. Cassandra looked at him without saying anything and had only one desire; get that person out of her house and take a relaxing bath.

— You see, Patricia is not totally a normal person. Her mother was human, but her father was an Autima, an extraterrestrial origin...

— That’s it, get out of here. That's enough, Cassandra yelled, rising from her seat, and heading for the door.

She had wasted enough of her time with this odd specimen. John was staying put and calmly continued the story.

— Patricia was a Destiny. A warrior. Patricia was born to kill Vitus11. She died while carrying out her mission. The Autimas protect the planet and the humankind by fighting with Vitus, because their worldwide system is virtually uninhabitable. This is why the Autimas have created Destinies and they have deployed them around the world. If one dies, another one has to take their place. And now you are at the top of the list.

For a moment there Cassandra looked dazed, but then she started to break into loud laughter.

— That’s it. Now, go away. Come to think of it, it's not the police I'm going to call, but the psychiatric hospital. You have wasted my time and I think you should get professional help, said Cassandra while waving her hand at the door.

What’s next? He was going to tell her that humanity would soon be under attack. That these aliens would be the ones who kidnap them while they sleep? She had no doubts on the existence of other lives, outside our planet, but she also believed that they surely had better things to do than come to visit them.

— I am not crazy. Your mother...

— She is dead and she rests in peace. Leave here be, Cassandra interrupted him furiously.

— I knew Helena Rimes. I know she died a few hours after you were born; a respiratory arrest. At least, that is the official version of the story. Unofficially, the doctors could not actually find the real causes, especially because she was a healthy person. The birth went perfectly. Your birthday was on Monday, which fits with her disappearance. Twenty-two years old...

— These days, the internet is the best option to find out information about somebody. Get out of here immediately, she yelled as she opened the door.

John stopped insisting. He stood up, took his briefcase from the living room table, and opened it to remove a document which he handed to Cassandra.

— These are your origins, Cassandra. Your mother broke the rules by falling in love with your father. She was not a simple Autima. She was one of the caregivers. She was some sort of angel for him. Her punishment was her earthly death. You look so much like her.

— And then what? Are you going to tell me that you are an automaton? Is that your role in all of this?

— I am not an Autima. I am just a simple man. Like you, I am a the chosen one, but I must guide you in your mission. I have the knowledge and you have the strength. If we are united, we can face evil...

For a second Cassandra hesitated, then showed him the door. His story seemed preposterous, but he told it with an utmost conviction. However, madmen believe their own stories too. This man needed psychological care and the priority right now was for him to leave the house before her sister returned. Cassandra was not naive. She needed more than words and papers as proof of what he was saying.

— Now, that’s enough. Get out and never come back.

John placed the documents on the table and left the house. Before Cassandra could closed the door, he turned in a final gesture.

— Cassandra, this is only a small part of what you need to know. Every day you'll learn something new, John insisted, sensing her suspicion.

John was aware that what he was showing her was incredible, even implausible. He grew up in this world, but not her. It was his existence. He himself couldn't believe it, if a random guy came to find him to tell him the same story.

— It was a nice story, Mr. Travis, but it's just entertainment for me. To me, you just seem like a poor madman trying to find meaning in your invented life and introducing me to your hallucinations. I am asking you to leave and never come back.

John left without further ado. He was disappointed, but at least he talked to her. He knew that sooner or later she will be searching for him. John was a patient man. Did he have another choice? He had entrusted all the necessary information to Cassandra and now he had to let time do its job. She would soon be faced with her new mission. It was inevitable.

He was slightly disturbed to find himself in front of the young woman. He had been able to contain himself and remain unmoved by the emotions she aroused in him. He had contradictory feelings that were unknown to him until now. He quickly put it down to all the winds of change blowing over him.

Cassandra slammed the door after making sure the man had gotten into his car and went on his way. Even since her childhood, she had kept things to herself that she had never dared to tell anyone because she was afraid of being laughed at. She had a deep-rooted fear of being rejected. Admittedly, she had a few abilities most people didn't have, such as moving objects short for distances with her mind, but she never talked about them. The fear of being considered crazy haunted her too much to confide in anyone. She had seen the movie with Carrie and her friends, and the comments they had; this made her want to keep it a secret. Having a normal life despite everything had never been easy for her.

She laughed as she imagined fighting forces from elsewhere. This was never included in her plans. She refused this idea inside her head. Cassandra had trouble opening a tin can without cutting herself, so killing an alien? What an absurd and science-fiction idea! Just the word alien was an overkill for her. She had never believed in UFOs or any other forms of life, so imagining that the universe could depend on her was a bitter pill to swallow. She was not a warrior as that Patricia Wolf. She was not a brave person. She was scared of everything. Okay, she was often told that she knew how to provoke people, but that was it. It was an image she loved to project.

Cassandra picked up the documents he had left on the living room table and went to her bedroom. She threw the bundle of sheets on her bed and grabbed her pyjamas before going to take a bath. Saving the world can wait until tomorrow, she now had to take care of her feet which made her suffer, but above all go relax and forget all about this story.