∞ The Tethered Ones ∞

Chapter 42

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• Amir •

Amir.

He heard his name being called out in various tones and at various times. He thought he recognized some of them, with Luna's voice being the most prominent. Sometimes she just said his name, and other times she was talking to someone else, having a one-sided conversation.

"Faisal is concerned about you, A. Everyone is, including Ethan."

Ethan? That had to be a lie, but who was concerned? Amir's mind was clouded with sleep, and he was simply tired and wanted to rest. Nothing to be concerned about.

"You have to come back to me, Amir." In the calming darkness, Luna's voice was a velvety, comforting whisper. "I need you, baby."

He wanted to do what Luna asked because she wasn't one to beg for anything, but she wasn't going away, and his dreams were calling him.

And Amir dreamed he was at home.

He was immediately drawn to the kitchen as he strolled through the quiet living room, which smelled of rosemary and thyme.

His mother sat at the kitchen island, her dark hair pulled back in a bun and her smooth ivory blouse wrinkle-free.

Her.

Maryam Khan.

Pure Soul.

Nurturer.

Mother.

Prisoner.

He came to a halt, unable to move as he stared at her, his heart racing when a slew of emotions burst within him. Sadness was there, like a toxin. Confusion was also present because he knew he was dreaming, but this felt like a memory, and beneath those tumultuous, explosive emotions was also excitement. Despite everything he'd been through, he was delighted to see her. Relieved.

She sipped from her cup while leafing through a cookbook that he couldn't see, and he soon noticed that the aroma of rich coffee and other foods had filled the room.

Vinegar. Basil. Cardamom. Cumin.

Pakistan.

He took another step, willing his legs to move, and then stopped. Something about the dining room table piqued his interest. A tall cylindrical vase filled with long gladiolas in white, pink, and red sat in the center, flanked by two tapered candles in iron holders. There had never been flowers there before. He recalls this because his mother did not want a flower arrangement to clutter the table. She'd previously stated that she only liked flowers on the table during holidays, and this did not appear to be a holiday memory.

His gaze was drawn to the wall. A strange painting hung there. A Watercolor background of the mountains in Islamabad. He gradually returned his attention to his mother. He was almost afraid that if he spoke, she'd vanish and return to her cell.

He took another step forward before stopping again. Something had spilled across the hardwood floor, leaving a small stained spot. It had been scrubbed clean, but not thoroughly.

"Don't be concerned about the floor. I'll have it replaced soon. We'll make sure the kids are more cautious the next time."

He jerked his head up and held his breath.

Children?

Maryam cocked her chin slightly to the right. "I'm glad you're here. You can help me with the food."

Amir squeezed his eyes shut as tears filled them. That was her voice. Soothing. Gentle. Every word was spoken with care. Her tone sounded nothing like the last time he heard her.

He missed his parents and wished he could rush to the facility where they were being held and break them out. He needed to free them from their agony.

"Come over here and help me," Maryam insisted. "It's almost time."

"Time for what?" Amir asked, drawing in a ragged breath.

Maryam motioned Amir to the other side of her. "We need to finish preparing the food."

"What are we getting ready for?" he asked.

"For the funeral," she answered.

"Whose funeral?"

When she met his gaze, she uttered the one name that made his heart race. "Luna's."

Amir's eyes popped open, staring into complete darkness. He was still in the house at Salvation Estate. Patting the space beside him, he checked to see if the bed was empty, and sighed when he felt Luna's body was there.

He wasn't sure what time it was, but he knew it had to be late at night. The sound of crickets and bugs humming in the distance could be heard, and the air was humid, with sweat pouring down his limbs.

He reached for her arm and felt her wrist to check for a pulse. Whatever he'd just dreamed felt real. It didn't seem like a memory, but rather a glimpse, perhaps of the future. But how?

As he reflected on what he'd seen, a wave of emotions washed down his spine. His soul was shattered when his mother told him she was preparing food for Luna's funeral. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't let go of the one aspect of his life that was meaningful to him. Luna still had a pulse, which was good news. There was no way she was going to die on him, and on Sarah.

He turned to face her, wiping tears from his closed eyelids, and kissed a spot above her heart. He couldn't see her face, but he could feel her breath caressing his skin. His soul finally relaxed as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Or so he intended.

A strange fog engulfed his mind. He slept, waking up once to check on Luna and again when the moon fell through the open window. His shirt was damp and clung to his feverish skin. When he went to push the blankets off, he noticed they were across the room, covering the end table.

As he sat up, cold sweat beaded on his brow. His heartbeat was heavy and erratic in his head. It felt like two beats were happening at the same time. His skin was tight over his muscles, hot and prickly. He stood, and the space whirled.

He was sweltering from the inside out. His thoughts were a never-ending train of rubbish, and he had the sensation of his insides melting into sludge. He only knew he needed to calm down.

The hallway door was open and calling to him. He stumbled down the hallway and into the living room, having no idea where he was heading. The front door stood out like a relief sign. He wished he could feel cold, but it wasn't cold outside.

However, even that wouldn't be sufficient.

Amir stood on the porch, his wet clothes and hair blowing in the breeze. The night sky was dotted with incredibly dazzling stars. The trees surrounding the houses changed hue as they dropped their sight. Silver, white, and yellow. They then changed to a soft orange color.

What was happening?

He realized that he was dreaming.

He stepped off the porch quickly and continued to follow the moonlight, despite pine needles poking at his feet. The world seemed to have turned on its head more than once, yet he persisted.

From behind the house, it didn't take him long to get to the marsh. A silvery claw-like ray of light appeared beneath the pale crescent moon. When his toes dug into some loose sand, he stopped moving forward. He stood there, the prickling heat stinging his skin. Burning. Baking. Frying.

"A?"

He turned slowly. The wind snapped as he stared at Luna's spirit. Her big, brilliant eyes reflected the moonlight that glistened on her face. She couldn't possibly be there because she was supposed to be asleep.

She questioned, "What are you doing, Amir?"

She had a fuzzy appearance. His Moon was never hazy. Yes, there were times when she moved quickly and become disoriented, but she was never fuzzy. "I need cold water," he muttered.

She nodded as understanding graced her face. "Don't enter the swamp."

Amir retreated. Icy water lapped at his feet and then his ankles. “Why?”

“Why?” Luna moved forward. “It’s too dangerous. Alligators and other swamp animals live there, A. Stay still."

His head ached. He was certainly losing his mind, but he continued to sink. His skin was melting, but cold water made it go away. It flowed over him, snatching both the fire and his breath. The pain reduced and was almost gone. He could spend all of eternity in there, and he most likely would, too.

Small, soft arms encircled him, pulling him back to the ground.

The cold air rushed over him, but his lungs were scorched. He drew in deep gulps, hoping to put out the flames. Luna was yanking him out of the murky water at such a rapid speed that he was in the water one second and standing on shore the next.

"Are you all right?" she demanded, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him lightly. "Have you gone insane?"

"I'm . . . I'm not sure." He remained motionless.

Her intense gaze shifted to his toes. "Yeah, you're pretty hot. The entire wet white shirt . . . Prince, it's sexy and even kinky, but a midnight swim in the swamp? Don't you think that's a little much?"

She was mumbling. His reprieve had ended, and his skin was burning once again. He stumbled back toward the water from her arms.

Before he turned around, Luna's hands were around his elbows. "You can't get in there, Amir. Stop. It's dangerous. Something will bite you." She brushed the hair plastered to her eyebrows. “Hell—you're sick and burning up.”

Something in what she said helped to clear the fog. He leaned in, his chin resting in the crook of her neck. She had a fantastic scent. Like roses and vanilla cake. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "It feels like burning coils are wrapped around my body."

"That's why we need to go to the infirmary."

This was all a dream. Had to be. Amir sighed, wrapping his arms around her slender waist. "I'd rather you take care of me, Moon."

Luna's arms tightened around him. "Baby, I will, but they may have what you need. Come on."

He let go, his arms dangling limply at his sides. "You're . . . you're not real. I have to prepare for your funeral. Oh, God. You left me."

“Amir.” She stopped them from going any further. Both hands were on his face, holding his head up. "Baby, look at me."

I wasn't looking at her?

His legs gave out, and then he heard her scream for help. Suddenly, there was nothing. No thoughts. No swamp. No heat. No Luna.

• • •

Things were hazy and disjointed. Amir's brows were held back by soft hands. Featherlight fingers smoothed his cheek, and Luna's soft voice spoke to him in a musical and melodious language. Like a song, but more beautiful and enchanting. He sunk into the sound, lost for a moment.

Then he heard voices.

He once thought he heard Dominique. "Amir has a fever. Tethered Souls rarely have this experience. He's sick."

"Something is definitely happening to him." That sounded like Owen. "His skin is hotter than a skillet."

Amir was moved around. Wet clothes were removed. Something warm and soft slid over his skin, and he tried to communicate with the voices around him, but his throat was parched. He was unable to speak.

At some point, he was wrapped in a blanket and carried somewhere on a stretcher. Strong hands held his body, lulling him until the voices faded and cool hands replaced the warm ones that were touching his face.

Bright lights intruded. He heard more voices. Baby? She sounded worried. She was speaking with . . . General Davenport. Amir felt the cool hands touch his skin once more. There was a prick in his arm, a dull pain that spread to his fingers. He heard more hushed voices, and then nothing.

There was no day or night; only this strange time in between, during which his body was on fire. The cool hands returned, pulling his arm out from beneath the covers. He didn't hear his angel as he felt the prick on his skin again. Heat rushed through his veins, and it swept through him. He arched his back off the bed, gasping, and a strangled scream escaped from the back of his throat.

Everything was on fire. He knew he was dying as a surge of pain raged within him ten times worse than before. He'd have to be dying . . .

Then there was a rush of cool air in his veins, like a dash of winter air. It moved quickly, extinguishing the flames and leaving an ice trail in its wake. Then he fell asleep for what seemed like an eternity, not knowing if he'd ever wake up.

• • •

He had no recollection of his two days in the community hospital. Only that he awoke on Labor Day morning in an uncomfortable bed, staring at a white ceiling, and feeling better. Excellent, even. He knew Luna had been by his side, and it took a lot of pleading to get him released after she spent all day Sunday telling anyone who came within a block of his door that he wanted to go back to their house. He'd clearly had a bad case of the flu, and it wasn't anything serious.

His wife watched him with shadowy eyes as he drank the bottle of grape juice she'd retrieved earlier. She was dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt. It was strange to see her without her tights. "Amir, are you sure you're feeling well enough to go on the raid? I'll get our family out. You don't have to be there."

He shook his head. Missing the raid was out of the question. He was strong enough to push himself to get his family out of their prison. "No. I'm fine."

"You were in the infirmary and severely ill. Take it easy."

Amir washed his hands. "I'll be all right."

"I know you believe you're feeling better." She adjusted the flannel shirt he borrowed from one of the guys, which he buttoned incorrectly. "John—General Davenport—may have cleared you to return here, but you scared me. I've never seen you so ill. Why don't I get him and see if he can check on you before we do anything?"

Even stranger, Luna was now addressing the general by name—their friendship had taken a serious turn, and he had missed it.

Amir stopped and grabbed his boots, the laces dangling on the sides. “Moon?”

“Yes?”

"You came out to me in the middle of the night, right?" He was even more terrified when she nodded. He pondered what had happened to him. "How did I get to the infirmary?"

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head.

She placed her hand on his brow. "You don't have a fever. Anyway, I called out for help, and Owen was standing guard in the back."

"Owen helped me?"

"Yes, he brought you in. Even though none of the others understand what happened to you, he may have a theory."

"A theory?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Owen thinks . . . he believes you have discovered a new ability. We're not sure what it is."

Amir pressed his lips into a thin line. And then everything he had previously experienced, from the first time he saw his mother to the time they were preparing food for a funeral, came back to him.

Whose funeral was it?

Luna.

His stomach clenched. It was her funeral. What he'd seen was an omen. Could he have foreseen the future? That couldn't be true.

Oh, God. "No."

"No what, Amir?"

"You can't go on this raid, Moon." He threw his shoes on the floor and reached for her hand. "Don't come with us. Please, I beg you."

Her eyes scattered. "But why?"

"Because . . . because you might die," he said, his stomach flopping like a twig.

Luna moved in closer and cupped his jaw. "Don't worry about that. Let's just concentrate on the task at hand. Rescuing our people from the sanitarium. Okay?"

"No. I have a feeling something bad will happen."

"Amir," she said, keeping her gaze focused on him. "We need to meet with the group next door to discuss a game plan. Everything will be fine."

He continued to shake his head. "But Luna—"

She used her finger to close his mouth. "But nothing. Please have faith in this mission. We need to focus on getting in, gathering our group, and getting out safely. If you want to, we can talk about this later."

He nodded and looked at the front door.

"Are you ready to go now?"

Amir wished he could explain his vision, but how could he? She'd assume it was his fever, even though he had no idea. And perhaps he was overly concerned. His mother mentioned "children" in his vision, so perhaps he and Luna will have children before she dies. Nothing will happen to her tonight.

All he could do next was to take her hand in his and kiss her knuckles, willing his nervousness away.

"I'm ready.” He kissed her lips gently. "As long as you're alive, I'll be fine."

"I will be. Tonight is not the night I will go down. We've got little ones to think about, right?"

He chuckled. "Heck, yeah, we do. Aluna babies."

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So, something happened with Amir, and he doesn't understand what it was. Hmm, he will know more soon. More developments to come.