Page 20 of Professor and the Seer
“So what’s the problem?”
“He dies.” A flat reply.
“Everyone dies.”
“Soon. Possibly because of me.”
“And?”
“What do you mean, and? I don’t want him to die,” I exclaimed.
“Then stop it from happening,” Dina stated matter-of-factly, as if it were that simple.
“I don’t know how. I see no other paths to follow. I don’t know what choices have to be made to avoid that fate.”
“You’re just going to give up?” Dina snorted. “Wow. Way to be a coward.”
My fists clenched, and I resisted an urge to swing. “You have no idea what it’s like.”
“Don’t I? I loved someone once, or have you forgotten? I would have done anything to prevent him from dying. I researched and experimented to no avail. What I didn’t do? Give up.”
“Well la-di-da for you. Here’s the thing, though. I remember your devastation, and I quite honestly don’t want to suffer the same way you did.”
“Then you’ll miss out on the joy and pleasure too,” she snapped. “Yes, I grieved, and still do. But I wouldn’t give up those memories for anything. Even if that happiness was brief.”
She slammed the door, angry with me, but that wasn’t new. What I didn’t expect? The worm she’d infected me with. A “what if I am wrong” worm that burrowed and wiggled. Could my vision be changed? Why couldn’t I see him past that point? Was a moment of pleasure worth the pain of loss?
Clothing had been neatly folded on a dresser: peasant-style blouse and skirt, thong sandals. I chose to shower first, the lukewarm water and bar of soap doing the job of refreshing me from my nap. How long had I been asleep?
The mundane direction of my thoughts helped with the fact the bathroom didn’t have a spell protecting me from its future. This rental abode would see dozens of people pass through until a fire burned it down.
To my delight, the clothing I donned had been spelled. No visions of what would happen to the fabric.
When I emerged from the bedroom, I followed the sound of voices and the smell of food. I entered a bright kitchen to find my sisters sitting with Bane at a table while John cooked.
He cast me a smile over his broad shoulder. “Just in time. I stir-fried some chicken and veggies, and we’ve got some freshly made tortillas and salsa.”
My stomach rumbled. “Sounds delicious.” I sat and listened as the group spoke.
“John says our best bet is to go sometime in the next night or two. No moon will make it easier for his camouflage spell to keep us unnoticed,” Bane stated.
“That might be a bit too much walking for Frieda, given she just woke up,” Enyo declared on my behalf.
“I’ll be fine,” I interjected. “Better than fine. I’ve not felt this well rested in ages.”
“I would be, too, if I slept two days,” Dina remarked.
Two days?
Before I could reply, John arrived with a steaming bowl that he placed on the table beside another dish of shredded cheese, and others with salsa, what might have been sour cream, and even chopped chives.
“You cooked all this?” I asked, impressed with the flavors after my first bite.
“Yeah. My mom taught me since it was something we could do together.” He sounded almost sheepish.
Dina snorted. “Our mother had us working as chemists, making cheap lotions that she marketed and sold as high-quality exclusives.”
“Isn’t that what you do now?” My sweet and pointed reply.