Greys II - Ghosts

Chapter 21 - Peace in Death

Don't walk through that door
There are verses left you don't know.
Oh, my hands are painted red.

Crywolf - Ghosts

I sat on the edge of my cot, wishing the vision I had just had was just that, a vision, not a call, not a request. Nothing frustrated me more than the fact that my mind seemed to be so easily encroached upon. I wasn't supposed to be like this, I had practiced for years to close my mind off from others, to make this kind of warfare ineffective against me. I suppose I couldn't fault myself for my father's ability to infiltrate my dreams. I had never really expected to be able to keep him out, not completely at least. Especially when my defenses were at their weakest as I slept. Especially now, when my mind was the weakest it had been in years, but now this? Now him?

I knew logically I shouldn't blame myself for his ability either. He had been the one to begin my training, the one who had first given me the tools to keep others out. But I still hated that I couldn't get a single damned afternoon of sleep without someone prancing through my mind like it was their own personal butterfly garden. I was sure he was lying, or maybe I just wanted him to be lying. It seemed doubtful though, I remembered all the lectures he had given me on the merits of honesty when I was a child. Maybe if I had listened to him I wouldn't be in the predicament I was currently in, maybe I would still have my family.

I ran my fingers through my dirty hair as I tried to remember the details of his message, which were already fraying at the edges as my mind tried to destroy the memory someone else had placed. I threw my head back in frustration as I realized I wouldn't be able to remember it all. My defenses hadn't been enough to keep the message out, but they were pulling it apart too quickly for me to replay in full. I pulled a notebook from my bag and began scribbling all that I could remember, getting more annoyed with each detail that disappeared like shadows in growing candlelight.

Master Darke, please do not disregard this...

...I believe, due to recent unfortunate events, that Jordan will be joining us shortly for her protection and of her own free will. He will not be able to get to her where we'll keep her. She will be safe with me, I promise you that much...You need not worry for her...

...I strongly advise that you join her, join us. You need protection just as much as she, perhaps even more...Put your past where it belongs and make the right decision, for both your sakes...

...I will not let him have her and I will do everything in my power to protect you as well...Do not do anything rash...Everything in due time...

...You know where to find me, and if you do not, I'm sure you'll figure it out shortly...I must apologize for my ambiguity, I need to take precautionary measures in case he is monitoring you...

...Please excuse my intrusion. You've been extremely difficult to physically locate, to which I must congratulate you. I do hope to see you soon.

I knew there was so much more, the 'vision' had taken close to two minutes, but the more I tried to remember, the more my mind shredded any evidence of the invasion. I remembered how proud I had been when my mental blocks became automatic, when I no longer needed to call upon my energy and focus to be protected. Now I cursed the fact that I didn't consciously control them. It didn't help that almost every time I tried to concentrate, almost every time I closed my damned eyes, I saw hers staring back at me. Either peeking over the edge of a bar's snowy rooftop, or wide with terror in a city alley as she stared at what she thought was a monster coming for her soul.

I wished I felt better about the message, I wished I trusted him, but he was from a time in my life I would never see the good in, never be able to trust, even in the thinnest, most fragile form of the word. I couldn't decide why I hated the idea of her there so much, why it left my stomach in knots. If she wanted to be there, then that was where she should be, simple as that. Maybe I hated it because every memory of Abraham I had involved my father, because I couldn't separate the two, because in some small sense I would always think he was working with him, for him. But I knew that wasn't true.