Hey all...!! Don't worry I'm still avoiding the roof LOL. But... those darn stairs and one-inch curbs are out to get me! May have some typos, I haven't slept so my mind is all foggy but I wanted to get this post out.

So... this chapter is in dedication to the son of one of my readers who recently passed away - Akari.

To his mom, I am terribly sorry for your loss.

Chapter 60 – Ride (Ansel Conrad POV) Pt. 4

"Do not just clam up on me right now Ansel Conrad!" My wife sits forward, blue eyes narrowing into mine, her chest rising and falling quickly. I open my mouth to speak and the overwhelming data in my mind has predominating reflections.

Faith thinks of the greater good, its as though the more I want to organize my thoughts to relay information to Lenah and my parents, the greater I feel like I'm seeing a new detail that I had not previously touched on.

How exactly did Antone know I was the right person to hand his den over to when the time came? I think while forcing myself to put that on the backburner.

"Who were you and Angie listening in on?" my father questions.

"Samson and the others called Angie," I finally say with a deep and heavy sigh. The weight on my shoulders building in the seconds gone by but after much lessons learned in such a long time, I realize I'm dwelling – doing something useless. "They needed help because they stopped in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, and a group of people, twelve that approached called Faith... the Divineness," I repeat their term searching Lenah and our parents' faces.

Had anyone heard of this before? Maybe Antone?

His eyes widen and my hope is dashed.

Reaching around I pull the headshots Angela printed and hand them to my father who is the closest to me at the moment. "They knew Dmitri, they said that Faith is the beginning and the end, that there is only one like her-"

"And this guy we heard speaking, what is his involvement – he sounds-"

"Unhinged," Angela blurts out under hear breath.

Lenah looks from my sister then back to me waiting for me to dispute Angela. Silently I frown.

"He believes that Faith is his mate, because he also has assumed that a 'prophecy' about Faith, stating something about a lost twin, is him."

Lenah blinks twice but never opens her mouth.

"What do you know? What is this 'prophecy' they speak of? What did they find out?" my mother asks worriedly. Our eyes connect and the worry I have inside me is reflected, as is the thirst for knowledge.

Panning out, looking between the five sitting across for me, Antone leans back, his face and eyes turned thoughtful.

"She left – they left without answers," Antone says putting together the pieces while my parents more or less look between us wondering if Antone was right, then their faces morph to disbelief.

"Faith said that Dmitri was dying, and called Walsh. If these people knew about her, where she was, if they were close to Dmitri, then why did he not call one of them instead? With that in mind Samson, Luca, Imogen, Rafael – the human – and Faith fled." I explain.

"And these people followed them to... Chicago?" dad asks me. "I55, downtown Chicago... right?"

"From Lake Geneva, Wisconsin to Downtown Chicago?"

I nod while Angela cackles besides me. "Yeah daddy," she nods. "And then, well as you heard, I helped them get away, but Xan – that's the guy that feels creepily attached to Faith," my father nods.

"How old is this guy?"

I close my eyes and shake my head.

"Okay so... there is more of a setback-"

"Have you heard from the kids since you helped them get away?" Lenah finally utters something.

I shake my head regrettably. "But, they need to be on the lookout right now, so I expect a call in the next ten... maybe twenty minutes," my Lenah frowns and when she nods, her eyes are glazed over, mind far in an instant.

"I think-" Angela starts off but quickly stops, her frown matching the one my mother has now. Looking down at her laptop keyboard, she rests her wrists on either side of the trackpad, fingers relaxed above the glowing keys. I expect her to start typing, however. she only appears to be in her own head, and deliberately evading eye contact with everyone.

A smile tugs at my lips. Angela was anything but subtle.

"They're still a distance away," my father says randomly. "If they're in Chicago – they've spent... do you know where they're heading?" he questions.

I shake my head slowly.

"I'm not sure if where they're going is as telling as what they've seen along the way – meeting these people. I – how on earth – Faith, Samson and Imogen do not see those people in the pictures," I tell them.

"What?"

I snort humorlessly, nodding.

"We sent them those pictures, but they said those are not the people that they saw."

"All twelve?"

I nod again. "Yes, Rafael and Luca agreed that the people they saw are the ones we sent to them."

"Well..." my mom says slowly, "I'd say cloaking spell, but why would those three not see the physical person in the picture as well? Why – can you track them live?" mom asks Angela changing directions. Our gazes shift to my sister who meets our eyes with a frown, before shaking her head.

"Of course mom," she says slowly. "So much doubt," Angie mumbles under her breath.

"Why do you ask?" I leave Angela to work.

Mom leans forward. "I heard through the grapevine, as well as being around these years. There are spells – black magic – where you can transfer souls, just put everything you are mentally placed into someone else physically. To make if permanent requires another spell, blood..." I watched my mom frowning, brows knitted. What?

"Do not look at me like that Ansel," she chides me before further explaining. I believe you have to do sacrifices, and – and it's Fae black magic?" she looks around at us, nearly pleading with one of us to help her.

"I'm not sure about the process, but you take the old body, shed blood, and what is supposed to happen is you do something – and the body you enter remains yours." My face goes blank and for a few beats I stare at mom. Just stare. Unsure if I wanted to laugh, lift a brow at her teasingly, or soak up and investigate.

As eccentric as my mother was, I could always follow her thought processes if I just listened dutifully, but tonight, even in this soundproof home I'm sure I could hear crickets all the way in Tennessee.

"Mom..." Angela says slowly while my hand just tilts his head backward his body shaking silently. "What does – how does what you just said even work or fit in with this?"

Hitting my fathers' chest, our mother sighs exasperated. "You said Faith, Imogen and Samson could not see these people?" I dip my head.

"So are we the tricked or them?"

I shrug.

"A cloaking spell would cover pictures. But if three of them are seeing different people than all of us, I'm not inclined to believe it's a spell gone wrong, and maybe it is something like the tales I've heard and just explained."

"Okay but why are they different Mary?" Lenah demands frustrated, her eyes slipping over to the phone that Samson was to call as soon as they were in the free and clear, away from the city.

"I can understand why maybe Faith does not see the people printed here," Lenah says softer after mom flinched from her abrasive tone before, "But what about Samson and Imogen? What about them? What is the common factor here?"

"They all see something we don't?" Angela says lifting her hand to scratch her neck. Turning my head slowly her way, I snort this time feeling like I'm a young man again, my siblings trying to out talk our parents from punishments.

"Don't sass me Angie!" mom snaps.

Biting her lip, Angela goes back to the computer.

"Grown adults," mom mumbles under her breath.

Sighing, mom straightens up before shifting her gaze over to me.

"I meant," she pauses, "like is it something they ate? What about them are different in comparison to Luca and the human?"

I rest back in my chair, breaking apart stored information. I knew Samson well. He was not an open book like some of my other children but I knew the basics. Then there was Faith – the girl was a wispy little thing, and in all the time we had her in the house, the only one she actively spent time with was Samson. Sure I noticed a few things about her but not enough to differentiate before anything. And Imogen? Maybe if Nick was around- I stop mid thought.

"Lennon knows Imogen well," I state.

Angela on the other hand snorts but doesn't look away from the screen.

"What?"

"I'm not so sure that is true, I mean just how much Lennon knows about Imogen. After all, why would Lennon be shocked that Luca – though married – was actually with Imogen?" I look at my sister curiously.

Ignoring the others she turns to me quickly.

"She's on my floor, I heard her talking to her boyfriend about Imogen and Luca. She never knew, so... I doubt Lennon knows Imogen as well as you'd believe."

"She might," Lenah agrees with me.

Angela stops typing for a brief moment. "Right."

"No, I can see why Imogen wouldn't tell Lennon about her relationship with Luca while he was still a married man. However, just because Imogen did not tell Lennon about Luca does not mean everything else was false either-"

"I doubt-"

"Stop!" I snap, slamming my hand down against the table, shaking it, the legs sturdy still quiver. "No time to argue," I gripe already thinking of causes for the difference in who Imogen, Faith and Samson saw.

Samson wasn't half Fae, but he still saw the different people.

Faith has some Werejaguar in her and can actually hear Samson when he speaks mentally, Imogen cannot do that though.

Samson has a gift, does Imogen? Faith might have one at this point since we were going with she possibly predicted the terror that is to come forth. On and on this proceeds, comparing my son to those he was traveling with.

"Cloaking is smoke and mirrors?" Lenah sort of asks my mother, my rampant thoughts coming to a halt like a young stallion. I look up at my wife, then towards my mother. When my mom nods, I shift my gaze back to Lenah, wondering where she was going with this.

"Let us rule out a few things first," Lenah says slowly, looking towards Angela. "Do you have footage yet?" Angela shakes her head no.

"Okay so we need to eliminate age first, start with the obvious before going over the end looking for differences, we already know it's not a gender thing," my brilliant wife suggests and I feel my chest expand, and the proverbial weight on my shoulders lessen.

Though her hands are flying over the keys and her eyes never leave the computer screen my sister jumps in. "And I guess being supernatural is not a common factor, Luca is supernatural, Rafael is human. Imogen is mixed; Samson is full shifter, Faith... well according to Taylor Two, Faith is the only one of her kind so..." she trails off while again, I don't know if I should be horrified at her bluntness or laughing.

"How on earth does Courtney put up with you?" I ask without censor.

A wicked glint in her eyes, nose twitching, Angela smirks. "By giving me lots of spankings and time out's in the corner, and once I've learned my lesson, I make sure to repent," her fingers never still but her eyes dart towards mine, mischievous twinkling blue orbs, "repeatedly."

I frown not liking the mental image.

"Like father like daughter," my mom chimes, and the proud smirk on Angela's face falls, a sour expression taking its place, "Ew."

Happier that Angela was suffering a disturbing mental image right along with me; I smile broadly turning to face my Lenah. I catch her gaze immediately in that minute; only for my previously blithe moment and smile fall from my face.

Needing a moment with my wife, her eyes filled with hidden sadness and watering while she bits on her lip, dimples beginning to tremble, I jump to my feet, walking around the table sticking my hand out for her. Taking it I lead us to a sort of bedroom attached to my office, away from our families.

"It'll be okay, Angela got them out-" I stop, when Lenah shakes her head. "A prophecy, Silas, what," Lenah shakes her head, squaring her shoulders, mouthing silently, the breath warm and sweet. "W-what if Taylor thought – knew – about that Prophecy," I blink, mind traveling down a new thought, heart quickening in my chest.

I shake my head. "Like she knew about Faith?' I frown.

Patient as always Lenah shakes her head softly, barely. "Taylor thinks of herself as special, deluded, and superior. Even – at the house – when we corrected her, when Samson was in Faiths room," I go back to what feels like years past but is just a few weeks.

"Taylor said," the words get stuck in Lenah's throat and that brimmed, fall over. Lifting my hand to her face, caressing her cheeks, I wipe away the tears. "She said, 'they said I could be with him, I'm supposed to be with him,' remember? And I thought," Lenah swallows.

"We thought," I correct her.

"We thought she was talking about Devin, and the other kids, maybe even just Shannon... but what if she was talking about this prophecy?"

"Surely she would know it was not about her," I say out loud, thinking those exact words. Lenah shakes her head at me, tears slipping only to be caught by my thumb.

"Taylor is... Ansel, she could have heard what she wanted to hear, or maybe she did not even know all the details. She may not have known it was Faith it was about, but like Angela said, and we heard from the man on the phone..." I close my eyes resigned.

"Sunny said that Xan behaves as if he is the only one that has lost a twin. So you're saying, Taylor might have heard about this prophecy and created the situation, where Samson lost a twin, therefore she's the greatness," my chest aches, the heaviness in on my heart I feel thinking of Silas takes my breath away.

Behind lids I replay memories, my Silas' smiles, his facial expressions, his everything – all the things that though Samson is his twin, I know I will never experience it live again. Talia's voice as she read a poem for her brother at his funeral is the soundtrack to his smiles, to every limit he pushed, to every rule he broke, to everything that I hold onto.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

Nothing, not even knowing what maybe have caused Taylor to take what was mine would take away the ache. I close my eyes as my hands wrap around my wife as scattered memories bombard me and I let the pain that I control, keep on low, simmering, bubbling over.

Havoc, my pain leaves no part of me empty. I feel his loss everywhere inside me, dragging me under, Lenah my lifeline and I hers.

We merge, one heart.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

'Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

It's bitterness, having him all around me, knowing he's in everything around us, but knowing there are memories I wanted to have of him that will never happen.

Weak, we sink to the floor, holding onto one another. Rocking as we purge again, the hurt never gone completely comes back now with a bit of guilt.

Some time later, collected, Lenah and I leave the bedroom of my office when Angela has finally gotten a video clip of the strangers from Lake Geneva. One by one, starting with those still awake, we begin asking if the video clip of Xan and another of Mack was the same as the picture of Xan and Mack that we sent to the kids.

Ages thirteen to twenty-three saw what we did. The same person in the picture was the same in the video – age was not a factor we were soon to conclude.

With only Lennon left to ask, the one we saved for last, as we needed to question her about Imogen, find a common factor between my son, Faith and Imogen we get stumped.

"So we just wanted to know if this picture," Angela points to the printed copy we used all night, "is the same as this person here in this clip?" furrowing her brows, Lennon's eyes scan the picture before her, eyes darting to different points. Xan's nose, his ears, forehead, before switching her gaze to the laptop ten-second clip and slowly shaking her head.

"No – the guy in the video is clearly, not the guy in this picture," she taps the print out with her index finger, eyes confused.

"What about this one?" Angela places the photo of Mack, then the video clip but Lennon still shakes her head. "You're saying that in this video, you are not seeing-" Lennon shakes her head, half of her face pinched. How can they think these people are the same, her eyes scream out at me.

"This guy here," she points to the picture we printed of Mack, "is not the same as the guy in the video. The one in the video even though it's grainy, he's much lighter skinned, his eyes look not – they're darker, I mean you cannot mix them up at all, even if you squint," Lennon's certainty matches my son, Faith and Imogen's.

She did not see the same person that we or any of the others saw.

Instead of asking her questions concerning Imogen, we thank Lennon, sending her on her way, the seven of us silently trying to make sense of this situation. So, while no one else saw what my son, Faith and Imogen saw, Lennon did. Why? It went from 'what did those three have in common?' to 'what did Lennon, Samson, Imogen and Faith have in common?'

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© 2016 roxann_season All Rights Reserved

thank you for reading, voting, and commenting.

oh and the poem up there is:

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

BY: Mary Elizabeth Frye