The Stars of Mithra: Hidden Star

It seemed so easy, as if there couldn’t be any trouble in the world—only lights and music and laughter.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been to a country carnival before,” she told him. “But if I have, this one is the best.”

“I still owe you a candlelight dinner.”

She turned her head to smile at him. “I’ll settle for another ride on the Ferris wheel.”

“Sure you’re up to it?”

“I want to go around again. With you.”

She stood in line, flirted with a toddler who kept his head on his father’s shoulder and peeked at her with huge blue eyes. She wondered if she was good with children, if she’d ever had a chance to be. And, laying her head on Cade’s shoulder, dreamed a little.

If this was just a normal night in normal lives, they could be here together like this. His hand would be in hers, just like this, and they wouldn’t have a care in the world. She’d be afraid of nothing. Her life would be as full and rich and bright as a carnival.

What was wrong with pretending it was, and could be, for just one night?

She climbed into the rocking car beside him, snuggled close. And rose into the sky. Beneath, people swarmed across the grass. Teenagers strutted, older couples strolled, children raced. The scents rose up on the wind, an evocative mix she could have breathed in forever.

The downward rush was fast and exciting, making her hair fly out and her stomach race to catch up. Tilting her head upward, she closed her eyes and prepared for the upward swing.

Of course, he kissed her. She’d wanted that, too, that sweet, innocent meeting of lips as they circled over the high summer grass, with the lights around them a rainbow gleam.

They circled again as the first fireworks spewed gold across a black sky.

“It’s beautiful.” She settled her head on his shoulder. “Like jewels tossed in the sea. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires.”

The colors shot upward, fountained and faded on a booming crash. Below, people applauded and whistled, filled the air with noise. Somewhere a baby wailed.

“He’s frightened,” she murmured. “It sounds like gunshots, or thunder.”

“My father used to have an English setter who’d hide under his bed every Fourth.” Cade toyed with her fingers as he watched the show. “Trembled for hours once the fireworks got going.”

“It’s so loud, scary if you don’t know what it is.” A brilliant flash of gold and sparkling diamonds erupted as they topped the wheel in a rush. Her heart began to race, her head to throb. It was the noise, that was all. The noise, and the sickening way the car rocked as the Ferris wheel jerked to a halt to unload passengers.

“Bailey?” He drew her closer, watching her face. She was trembling now, her cheeks white, her eyes dark.

“I’m all right. Just a little queasy.”

“We’ll be off soon. Just a couple more cars.”

“I’m all right.” But the lights flashed again, shattering the sky. And the image rolled into her head like thunder.

“He threw up his hands.” She managed a whisper. She couldn’t see the lights now, the colored diamonds scattered across the sky. The memory blinded her to everything else. “Threw them up to try to grab the knife. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. There was only the desk light. Just that one beam of light. They’re like shadows, and they’re screaming, but I can’t. Then the lightning flashed. It’s so bright, just that one instant, so bright the room’s alight with it. And he… Oh, God, his throat. He slashed his throat.”

She turned her face into Cade’s shoulder. “I don’t want to see that. I can’t bear to see that.”

“Let it go. Just hold on to me and let it go. We’re getting off now.” He lifted her out of the car, all but carried her across the grass. She was shuddering as if the air had turned icy, and he could hear sobs choking her. “It can’t hurt you now, Bailey. You’re not alone now.”

He wound his way through the field where cars were parked, swore each time a boom of gunpowder made her jerk. She curled up in the seat, rocking herself for comfort while he skirted the hood and got quickly behind the wheel.

“Cry it out,” he told her, and turned the key. “Scream if you want to. Just don’t let it eat at you like this.”

Because he didn’t make her feel ashamed, she wept a little, then rested her throbbing head against the seat as he drove down the winding road and back toward the city.

“I keep seeing jewels,” she said at length. Her voice was raw, but steady. “Beautiful gemstones. Floods of them. Lapis and opals, malachite and topaz. All different shapes, cut and uncut. I can pick out each one. I know what they are, how they feel in my hand. There’s a long piece of chalcedony, smooth to the touch and sword-shaped. It sits on a desk like a paperweight. And this lovely rutilated quartz with silvery threads running through it like shooting stars. I can see them. They’re so familiar.”

“They make you happy, comfortable.”

“Yes, I think they do. When I think of them, when they drift back into my head, it’s pleasant. Soothing. There’s an elephant. Not this one.” She hugged the plush toy against her for comfort. “Soapstone, carved with a jeweled blanket over its back and bright blue eyes. He’s so regal and foolish.”

She paused a moment, tried to think past the headache pounding in her temples. “There are other stones, all manner of others, but they don’t belong to me. Still, they soothe. It doesn’t frighten me at all to think of them. Even the blue diamond. It’s such a beautiful thing. Such a miracle of nature. It’s amazing, really, that just the right elements, the right minerals, the right pressure and the right amount of time can join together to create something so special.

“They’re arguing about them. About it,” she continued, squeezing her eyes shut to try to bring it back. “I can hear them, and I’m angry and feeling righteous. I can almost see myself marching toward that room where they’re arguing, and I’m furious and satisfied. It’s such an odd combination of feelings. And I’m afraid, a little. I’ve done something… I don’t know.”

She strained toward it, fisting her hands. “Something rash or impulsive, or even foolish. I go to the door. It’s open, and their voices echo outside. I go to the door, and I’m trembling inside. It’s not all fear, I don’t think it’s just fear. Some of it’s temper. I close my hand over the stone. It’s in my pocket, and I feel better with my hand on it. The canvas bag’s there, on the table by the door. It’s open, too, and I can see the money inside. I pick it up while they shout at each other.”

The lights as they slipped from suburb to city made her eyes water. She closed them again. “They don’t know I’m there. They’re so intent on each other, they don’t notice me. Then I see the knife in his hand, the curved blade gleaming. And the other one throws up his hands to grab it. They struggle over it, and they’re out of the light now, struggling. But I see blood, and one of the shadows staggers. The other moves in. He doesn’t stop. Just doesn’t stop. I’m frozen there, clutching the bag, watching. The lights go off, all at once, and it’s totally dark. Then the lightning flashes, fills the sky. It’s suddenly so bright. When he slices the knife again, over his throat, he sees me. He sees me, and I run.”

“Okay, try to relax.” The traffic was murder, choked and impatient. He couldn’t take her hand, draw her close, comfort her. “Don’t push it now, Bailey. We’ll deal with this at home.”

“Cade, they’re the same person,” she murmured, and let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh. “They’re the same.”

He cursed the clogged streets, hunted for an opening and shot around a station wagon with inches to spare. “The same as what?”

“Each other. They’re the same person. But that can’t be. I know that can’t be, because one’s dead and one isn’t. I’m afraid I’m going crazy.”

Symbols again, he wondered, or truth? “How are they the same?”

“They have the same face.”

She carried the stuffed elephant into the house, clutching it to her as if it were a lifeline to reality. Her mind felt musty, caught between dreams, with a sly headache hovering at the corners waiting to pounce.

“I want you to lie down. I’ll make you some tea.”

“No, I’ll make it. I’ll feel better if I’m doing something. Anything. I’m sorry. It was such a wonderful evening.” In the kitchen, she set the smiling elephant on the table. “Until.”

“It was a wonderful evening. And whatever helps jiggle more pieces in place is worth it. It hurts you.” He took her shoulders. “And I’m sorry, but you have to get through the rest of it to get where we want to be.”

“I know.” She lifted a hand to his, squeezed briefly, then turned to put the kettle on the stove. “I’m not going to fall apart, Cade, but I’m afraid I may not be stable.” Pressing her fingers to her eyes, she laughed. “Funny statement coming from someone who can’t remember her own name.”

“You’re remembering more all the time, Bailey. And you’re the most stable woman I’ve ever met.”

“Then I’m worried about you, too, and your choice of women.”

She set cups precisely on their saucers, concentrating on the simple task. Tea bags, spoons, sugar bowl.

In the maple tree, the wood thrush had given over to a whippoorwill, and the song was like liquid silver. She thought of honeysuckle burying a chain-link fence, perfuming the evening air while the night bird called for his mate.