Page 21 of Fallen Star

He caresses my face, kisses me quickly, then takes leave of the bed. "We have to get to it. We can't let her get three pieces. She will be nearly unstoppable."

"Dean, I think I know why she wants it," I say, finally sharing my last secret with him.

He turns mid-way through dressing. "Why?"

"I know what it can do. What its power is." I swallow, my heart falling in my chest. "It can bring back the dead," I say. "Fully restored. As if they never died. If my father is actually dead, I think she wants to use it on him. It's what I would do."

He studies me. "How do you know this?"

"It's my ability," I say, realizingthisis actually my last secret from him. "I can read the history of things. It's how I knew what the Mother Tree was feeling. And your blood, it unlocked more of that power in me. Now, I can see the web everyone walks in and how it all connects. I can see the patterns. I know this is what my mother is going to do."

"I knew you weren't human," he says. "Feeding on your blood confirmed it for me."

"I think you're right," I say. "But I don't know what I am." A mystery maybe my mother can help me resolve, now that I know she's alive. Of course, she's the villain now, so we'll see how that goes.

"Something so much more," he says, his voice a soft caress over my heart. Then his face darkens, and he frowns. "What's the cost?" he asks. "There's always a cost for this kind of magic."

"Innocent lives. So many innocent lives." My voice chokes with emotion. "My mother is willing to let hundreds of innocent people die to bring back my father. And the more the Star is used for this purpose, the hungrier it will get. In the wrong hands, it could result in an apocalypse like we've never seen."

Dean pulls some clothes out of his closet and tosses them to me. "Then we'd better get going and stop this before it's too late."

I dress quickly, though his clothes are too big for me. We are both silent, lost in our thoughts, but I can tell they run on parallel tracks.

We are both worried that it's already too late.

Alex Stone

Dean and I stand in front of a large mirror, ready to travel back to my world. I'm nervous. This just got so much more personal on so many levels.

"I can't take us directly to your house, since I haven't been there, but I can get us close."

I nod and take his hand, and he pulls us through. I obviously traveled this way once before, but I was unconscious so it hardly counts. My stomach drops as my body is sucked into a vortex of magic that dances all over my skin. It's a heady experience, as if traveling through galaxies, through a dark and starry night. Dean's hand grips mine firmly, and I cling to his, not wanting to get lost in this universal expanse of nothingness. The absence of any sound is the most disconcerting, like what I'd imagine being in space is like.

Moments later, or hours later, I can't really tell, we are sucked out of another mirror and into a covered alley lined with trash bins. The mirror we came from is a graffiti-covered attachment to a brick wall that forms the backside of a line of shops.

At least a dozen homeless are camped out around the bins, using cardboard boxes and bits of cloth to form makeshift houses. You can't drive through Los Angeles without seeing camps of homeless people under overpasses and lining the streets. It breaks my heart, and I wish I knew a way of fixing this growing problem. I donate to organizations that I know work hard to help those less fortunate or privileged, but it never seems enough.

Dean shakes his head as we make our way through the web of bodies. "And people think we're the monsters. You'll never find anyone in my realm living like this," he says.

It's past dusk, the sun already a memory in the night sky as we walk down the street, and I orient myself to where we are as I search for a cab to take us to my house. "What would we have done if it was daylight?" I ask.

"Waited," he says, shrugging.

"Oh to have the patience of an immortal," I tease.

He winks at me and reaches for my hand, holding it as I hail a cab.

The intimate everyday gesture sends flurries of butterflies to my stomach, and I wonder how long we'll have this—whateverthisis.

I tell him a bit more about my parents on the drive to my house. "They met in college. My mom was studying archaeology and anthropology and my dad was majoring in theater arts. It was love at first sight, to hear them tell it."

My cheeks warm as the prince studies me. "Sometimes that is the way of it," he says. "Two people who are meant to be often know instantly. As if their souls have danced the same dance before and they were only seeking each other for another round together."

"You believe in soul mates?" I ask.

He nods. "I do now."

The cab pulls into my driveway and I let his words settle into me as I pay electronically using PayPal. I don't have my wallet or phone, so I have to borrow the driver's cell. After setting up his payment, I send a text to my friend, letting her know we might need help if shit hits the fan here, then I hand the phone back with a thank you.