Cry Me a River: (Destiny Paramortals, book 2) by Livia Quinn

Author:Livia Quinn [Quinn, Livia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Campbell Hill Publishing

Chapter 15

Tempe

Thur 7:48 pm “Ancient dudes—low tech.”

Andy opened his mouth but Aurora hissed, “Silence, Andy, until we’re done. You should be concentrating on recent training sessions with River, anything that helps you keep him front and center in your mind. Directing her instructions to the rest of us, she said, “Get a clear image of River and do whatever you have to do to keep it there—memories, conversations, even arguments. One minute.”

Flame jumped from the snuffed candles and steadied. All of the other flames followed suit. Several sets of eyes connected, curious. Since Aurora was directing and focusing the energies of the group, my money was on Dutch. It would be a piece of cake for him to keep all the candles lit and still focus on River—and churn up an earthquake or three with the leftover energy.

I closed my eyes, searching my mind for memories of my brother. At first it was like slogging through deep mucky gumbo, my subconscious putting up barriers…

It’s to protect you from the pain, but I’m here, daughter… Dutch’s thoughts comforted, and his hand squeezed mine. Then the images flowed… River running behind me on the grass, his little legs trying desperately to keep up, crying because I was going too fast. I turned and lifted him up high. His cries turning to giggles as he threw his arms up to the sky, wiggling his fingers, his curly bronze hair flopping in the wind as his squeals brought momma running.

She plucked him from my arms and nuzzled his cheek. She was so happy and beautiful. “My little rolling River. You won’t always be a trickle, baby boy.” She commenced singing to him, lyrics she’d created just for us, “I once had a raindrop, drip, drop, drip, drop, but she became a Tempest. Then I had a trickle,” she poked him in the belly, “tickle, trickle, tickle. But he trickled faster and faster until ooh, ooh, ooh, he turned into a River. Now Mommy has a tempest and river and she loves them thiiiiisss much,” which ended in both of us being dropped into a mom-made pool of water. River’s high squealing shrieks accompanied his splashing and kicking, drenching Phoebe and me.

It had been a wonderful day. I glanced at Dutch. Seeing my memory through the mindlink, he smiled and I returned it. My eyes closed and I made prayerful fists at my sides. This could work. I opened my thoughts searching for more family videos. And found Dutch trying to teach River how to start a fire, the Djinn method.

River sat across the pile of twigs and brush from our father who looked more relaxed and happy than I’ve ever seen him. “Okay, son, concentrate. You know what fire looks like, don’t you?”

Three-year-old River nodded wide-eyed at Dutch. “Uh, yeah?”

Dutch chuckled and held his hand out palm up. “Like this.” A tiny four-inch fire filled his hand, roaring and crackling just like the larger fireplace version.

River clapped and squealed. “Go, Daddy.” Not to be

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