Wanderlove Part 1

Wanderlove.

By Belle Malory.

Part One.

Remembrance.

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."

--Ralph Waldo Emerson.

ONE.

"Goodbye, my half a million American dollars."

A whimper and a small sigh escaped my best friend's lips as she longingly stared out into the darkness. She made it a point to put her emotions on display, just in case I didn't already know how she was feeling.

A few paces ahead, a row of brand-new Mercedes-Benz cars gleamed in the moonlight. The automobiles were all of next year's models- sleek, sophisticated and tragically unattainable. I watched as Lina's brown eyes grew practically teary with remorse as she stared at them. I, on the other hand, lifted a high brow, annoyed by my friend's sudden display of regret. Now was definitely not the time for doubts.

"Are you trying to make things worse?" I whispered the question heatedly. Had I been warned she would spend the night bemoaning our losses, I might have reconsidered what I was about to do.

I immediately regretted snapping at her. The dramatic farewell shouldn't have come as a surprise. It was just like Lina to react this way. After all, Lina Drynski had been my lifelong friend. No one knew her as well as I did. And I knew she habitually freaked out during the eleventh hour. I should be used to it by now.

Maybe it was because tonight was so different. Tonight was important. The big moment of truth was here and I depended on Lina to make the right decisions. Every move was crucial in this stage of the game.

She'll be fine. She always gets it together, I reminded myself. Thankfully, and almost in sync with my thoughts, Lina squared her shoulders and inhaled a deep breath. Good, she was getting a grip.

Now if only I could do the same. . .

"Course not, love," Lina finally answered my earlier question. She patted my arm comfortingly. "Just needed a moment, that's all."

I looked back towards the transport carrier, feeling my legs tremble a little. a.s.sured now that I wouldn't have to console Lina, I was once again confronted with my own nauseating bout of panic. It settled around me like an oppressive fog, causing me to question everything I'd planned over the last few weeks.

Last chance to change your mind, I offered myself, dangling the decision as if it were the fruit of temptation. Surely, I was the kettle in this scenario. I had no right to criticize Lina's hesitation- my own was far worse than hers could ever be. I only hoped I was better at hiding it.

"We have about thirteen minutes before the cops get here," Lina announced, interrupting my internal debate. She moved to point to one of the cars. "Do you think you can handle the CL-Cla.s.s on the bottom rack?"

Dazedly, I squinted, searching for the vehicle she mentioned. "The black one?" I asked.

"That's it," she confirmed. She paused for a brief moment to regard me. "Hey, are you okay, Lo?" There were traces of concern in her voice. Maybe I wasn't hiding my emotions as well as I'd thought.

"I'm fine," I a.s.sured her.

It was a blatant lie.

Because as much as I wanted to be fine, I was secretly experiencing a nervous breakdown.

Redirecting my train of thought, I focused on removing the car from the carrier. I hoped the task might calm me. It's such a beautiful car, I thought while looking it over. I hated knowing that I would enjoy taking it. My father was to blame for moments like this one. He'd somehow managed to instill a wicked streak in me. The rush spreading over my body, the racing of my exuberant heart- it was entirely his fault. I wish I'd never known the excitement of this moment.

"When you get it on the ground, you're going to head east," Lina instructed me. "The cops will be coming from the west, which leaves you no other route."

"I'll have it down in five."

I moved quietly, practically unnoticeable in the darkness of the night. Lina and I both wore black and our clothes were skin-tight. Normally we opted for colorful, vibrant and flowy fabrics. But we were instructed to become invisible tonight, a direct order from my father, Christo Moori. General rule of thumb was to adhere to Christo. Even I, his only daughter, was not beyond facing the consequences of upsetting him.

I couldn't help thinking that after tonight my father wouldn't just be upset. After tonight, the wraths of h.e.l.l would undoubtedly be unleashed. So, of course, I was terrified. Maybe I'd finally lost it. Yep, that had to be it. I must be insane.

I glanced at my watch. Only four minutes remaining to get this car down, which meant that I didn't have any time to reflect on my sanity or lack of it. I needed to get moving.

When we were working these types of jobs, I never wandered too far from Lina. She had one of the most remarkable gifts I'd ever encountered. A psychic at the purest form, Lina could see into the immediate future. Through study of her skill, we found she could see as far as an hour ahead, unless people changed their minds or spontaneously decided to do something unusual. For the most part though, she was my father's best a.s.set, especially for a job like this. Tonight we would be stealing a prime load of brand new Mercedes-Benz's that were being s.h.i.+pped to Palm Beach, Florida. . .or we would have been able to steal the load. However, I had other plans. And unfortunately for my father, those plans didn't correlate with his.

Since I didn't have any unique foresight to match Lina's, I learned to pick up a few skills of my own. However, interfacing an advanced security system like the kind set up on these particular vehicles had never been a strong point of mine. If it was just a simple matter like breaking a window and hotwiring a car, I was completely capable. But hotwiring was not going to work with a keyless entry, fully equipped, luxury car.

Lucky for me, my father intercepted a package of micro-chipped keys that had been sent to the Palm Beach dealers.h.i.+p separately from their s.h.i.+pment of vehicles. All I needed to do was press the unlock b.u.t.ton and I'd be set to go. I could manage it easily enough. I would have the car down in time, validating Lina's vision.

I unhitched the car from its mount, allowing it to roll to the ground, and trying to remain as quiet as possible. Should one of my father's men catch on to what I was doing, I'd be done for.

When the car was on the ground, I went to find Lina. She held the key in her pocket. The key to my escape.

It's almost over, I couldn't help but think. Soon you will be long gone. Soon you will have actually gotten away with this.

A difficult concept to process.

I carefully tiptoed around the drooping truck driver. He'd been left on the backside of the truck, his back leaning against the frame. The poor guy out had been knocked out cold. I shuddered, trying not to look straight at him.

An unexpected clicking noise broke through the silence, startling me. I stiffened, looking around in the dark.

The sound came from behind the car. I strained my eyes to see what had caused it.

Lina's figure appeared as she stepped closer to me and I breathed a small sigh of relief. Shakily, she handed me the key.

I could sense Lina's anxiety had also grown. Everything was riding on her vision and she realized it. One bad move could send us spiraling into an epic failure. She had every right to be fearful. Should things go wrong, I wouldn't be the only one held accountable.

I further suspected Lina didn't want to see me leave, though she knew as well as I did that it had to be done. She was doing her best to hide how she felt, endearingly.

"Are you positive this is what you want?" Lina questioned me uneasily.

"Yes," I told her with resolution. "This is what I want."

She unconsciously bit her bottom lip. The sadness in her expression brought me out of the surreal daze, which had been hovering around me. In all honesty, I was sad, too. Lina had been my closest friend for my entire life. Lina and Lola. Always together. Two of a kind. And from what she had told me, we'd been friends in many different life times.

"I guess you better leave now, before he figures it out."

I nodded in agreement, grabbing my satchel and opening the door to the s.h.i.+ny, black Mercedes I just partic.i.p.ated in the theft of. Before I got in, I turned back towards Lina and hugged her, squeezing her until she was breathless. Over her shoulder, I whispered, "Do me a favor?"

"Sure. Anything."

I swallowed, fighting back any tears I'd been harboring. "Tell him it's nothing personal. Tell him I love him."

"He knows that, Lo."

"He will forget."

I got into the car and started the engine. As it purred to life, I rolled down my window.

"Take care, Lina."

"You too. And remember-- don't take the turnpike or the interstate. Get rid of the car when you reach Pensacola."

"I will," I promised her.

"Drive fast. They will try to come after you."

In response to that statement, I rolled up the window and stepped on the gas pedal. The brand-new tires screeched as I turned onto the highway. The car picked up speed wonderfully.

I tried focusing only on driving, if that was possible. At least there was a bright side to all of this. I was able to make my escape in the most bad a.s.s car I'd ever driven. I would a.s.suredly lapse into a heart-wrenching depression when it came time to leave it behind.

Throwing caution out the window, I drove at ninety miles an hour down the highway, which twisted narrowly through the dark Tennessee mountainside. It was still very early, barely five o' clock in the morning. The road was empty, save for a blanket of mist that covered the dewy ground alongside it.

Daylight was on the horizon and Lina mentioned I would need to get as far away from Nashville as I could while it was still dark. This way it would be harder for my father's lackeys to make out where I was headed. Not impossible, just harder. Although if I could make it to Florida by the time the storm struck, I would be golden. That's why this escape was so perfect, and it was why I had no choice but to act when I had. Mind readers can't see inside your thoughts while it's raining. So it would be nearly impossible to see inside my head in the middle of a tropical storm. With any luck, it might even turn into a fully-fledged hurricane.

Elated, I began to realize that I was actually going to get away.

And then, as per usual, my elation quickly left me as I thought of my father. He would never forgive me for this. Not only because I was betraying him, but also because he would end up in jail for trying to hunt me down.

"d.a.m.n," I muttered, feeling wretched. I wasn't supposed to feel like this. I was supposed to be relieved, reveling in this moment. I had just escaped a nightmare.

Chris...o...b..ought this upon himself, I reminded myself, hoping to feel consoled.

It didn't work.

So I turned the k.n.o.b up on the car stereo, hoping some music might tune out my doubtful thoughts.

I still couldn't keep the guilt at bay. Dimly, I wondered if I would ever be able to hide from this betrayal. For the millionth time it seemed, I questioned myself on whether or not I was making the right choice.

As if on cue, my cell phone rang. I turned down the stereo volume and picked up the phone carefully, afraid of the thing. When I didn't answer, the screen displayed a new text message.

It was from Dad.

Weighing the phone in my hand, I debated whether or not to read it. I drove for nearly three miles before I finally decided.

In the end, I opened the window and chucked the phone out of the car.

Out of my reach.

I didn't want to know.

I couldn't face the consequences of what I'd just done.

Getting rid of the Mercedes proved to be the worst possible idea. I found this out in Pensacola after I'd already ditched the car. I located the nearest bus station, hoping to find a one-way ticket to Clearwater. Apparently, bus routes are canceled during tropical storms. The entrance to the building was locked and a sign read that the station was closed for the evening. I groaned. Of course the bus station would be closed. I wondered why this sensible deduction had never crossed my mind earlier. I ended up retreating back to the Mercedes, deciding to take my chances with it.

I stayed off the major highways, choosing to take the back roads instead. Lina warned me to stay out of sight. The back roads proved to be far more dangerous though. The storm was raging through the area now, needling rain beating against the car furiously. I had only just made it out of Tampa when the road flooded completely. It was coming down so hard, I could barely see anything through the winds.h.i.+eld.

A giant oak tree that had fallen across the way came into view at the last second. My heart stopped. I slammed on my brakes, feeling the tires hydroplane. Luckily, the car stopped just in time.

I breathed heavily as the full impact of what might have happened hit me. A few minutes pa.s.sed before I stopped shaking.

Once I calmed down, I realized that there was no way I could get around that tree in such a tiny automobile. But I'd prepared for anything. I pulled out my raincoat, quickly slipping it on and raising the hood over my head. I'd come too far to stop now. My determination demanded that I continue, even if that meant finis.h.i.+ng this trip on foot. My grandmother's house was probably about ten to fifteen miles from where I was parked. I could either walk the rest of the way or find some shelter and then call her in the morning. I would've had to leave the car behind sooner or later, anyway.

Walking proved to be a fatal decision. I walked for nearly five miles before I came face to face with my untimely death.

The rain had been pouring relentlessly. I could barely see a foot in front of me. A ledge by the road dropped off into a ditch nearly ten feet below the ground. By the time I realized this, my footing caught on a tree branch. I fell straight down, hitting my head upon a hard stone.

Numbly, I stared up into the trees and sky, maybe in shock.

This is it, I realized. I'd come so close, yet I was still so far. And now I was nearing the end of my life.

This life, anyway.

It was really no wonder I couldn't seem to recall my past lives if this was how I spent them all. Larceny. . .crime. . .dishonoring my father. Who would want to remember such an existence? I probably shouldn't even try. The world would be a much better place with one less gypsy in it.

I felt a wetness on my scalp, near my temple. I was certain it wasn't the rain. Too warm and too sticky. I knew I should try to find help, and I attempted it, but that turned out to be one big catastrophe. A cloud of dizziness swarmed over me like a hive of angry bees. It was too much to bear. My earlier burst of determination faded entirely. My body spent, I sank back into the muddy ground, giving up. I found if I remained very still, the pain was almost bearable enough to attempt sleep. I closed my eyes, feeling the rain drops pour over my face. I prayed that if there was a G.o.d, that he would please grant me sleep while I died.

I tried to remember the words to Zetta's lullaby through my cloudy brain. It was such a pretty song. I began to sing the words aloud as I closed my eyes, willing myself to grow tired. I'd fallen asleep a thousand times before as Zetta had sung to me, so I knew each word by heart. And yet, I wasn't even sure what the words meant. It was just an old Romanian lullaby. But the lyrics were still so lovely to me. Zetta's voice had always sounded very tranquil as she sang it. She added a certain mesmerizing, somewhat dreamlike quality to the tune. I tried my best to mimic her, hoping I would drift off quickly, hoping that I wouldn't have to feel the pain of death.

I wondered how much it hurt, the part when the heart stops beating. . .

Suddenly, it was as if I had no weight. I was floating with breeze as it carried me away. Someone's talking, saying something. . .but I had thought I was alone. As I found the courage to open my eyes, I saw him.

He was an angel, sent to deliver me to the next life. Only angels could look like he did. So beautiful, so perfect. . .I lifted my hand to touch his face, to make sure he was real.

He was real.

"You're going to be all right!" he told me, trying to shout over the storm. Yet his voice seemed muted, fading in and out. Or maybe I was the one fading. It certainly felt like I was going to black out at any moment.

"I'm going to lift you now!"