by Ireland Gill
Luka let his head fall back a bit to look up at the ceiling. He smiled solemnly, as if he were acknowledging a scene in his mind’s eye. “You know, Evigreen, sometimes our hearts and our minds don’t speak the same language all of the time. Even though the heart often makes the best choice for us - only if we let it - the brain likes to sabotage things and go with the safer route. But that doesn’t always mean that safer is the right choice. So, sometimes we have to give our hearts a chance to be right.”
I looked at those crystal blue ponds of Luka’s. I’d noted just how much I appreciated this angel in my life. He was like a brother to me, and a moral compass. He gave me direction when I needed it. Always. I was going to leave it at that. His vague responses to me were indicative that Luka was not going to provide his actual opinion. He was giving me “safe” answers.
I didn’t want to search myself anymore, trying to figure out why I drew that sketch of Hayden. I almost didn’t want to know the real reason behind it. There was no “pin in it” this time; I’d just have to let it go and trust that these angels surrounding me were making the best choices, even if I disagreed with them. And Hayden and I would have to hash things out sooner or later.
Beau stood on all fours, shaking the bed violently with his sudden movements as he came up to lick Luka in the face, then sprawl across both of our laps. I got his tail end. Luka and I both laughed.
“My dog sure does love you, you know,” I reminded Luka.
“Who doesn’t?” He winked.
We sat for a few minutes, scratching Beau’s belly and playing with his fur. It was enough time for me to drill into some more questions that were brewing.
“Luka, who will Hayden’s permanent Guardian be?”
“Good question.” He thought for a moment. “I’m actually out of the loop on that right now. I don’t think we’ll know until they appoint one. Maybe at the Binding ceremony.”
“The Binding – once he’s completely human.”
Luka bobbed his head. “Yep.” He looked down at my left hand. “That ring was the first step. Marriage isn’t enough for us Guardians-gone-human. We like to take it a step further.” He laughed.
“And from what I understand, there is no “death do us part” since the Binding keeps the couple together, even after death.” I thought about the first time Hayden told me about this type of ceremony done at the House of Council. “It was the one thing that my father wanted with Lavinia before she died.”
Luka’s expression grew solemn. “And not having that coveted bond with her broke him. He was never the same, living as a mortal without her.”
My biological mother, Lavinia, had been my father’s Guardian. Hayden told me the story of her death and how she became completely vulnerable to sickness as a human after she’d Faded for my father. She died shortly after I was born, and my father was devastated. He put me in the hands of his twin sister, Nora, who I’ve always known as my mother.
Memories of my mother’s death swept my mind, and I was reminded of how awful that feeling of loss really is. I was in a very dark place after watching her die, and being faced with the fact that I’d never get my revenge on her killer since he’d hanged himself shortly after his imprisonment.
Hayden was the one who’d saved me from my path of self-destruction, giving me a purpose. As much as I’d never truly agreed with that “purpose” most of the time, he was always the one who’d brought me back to my center. Losing him would be the end for me. Losing another person I loved would take me back to those darker depths within me from which I’m not sure I’d ever be able to escape again.
It was more than slightly concerning that Hayden was in the middle of his Fade, his most vulnerable of times as a transitioning angel-to-human, and there had been no game plan on his safety. At least, none that we were made aware of. I was disappointed in the lack of immediate action taken on the matter. And more disappointed that Luka, at the very least, had not been made aware of the next steps in Hayden’s Fade. It felt as though, maybe, the Guardian Council had a few curtains of their own, ones that even shut their own kind out.
“I know he wants to make everything official as soon as he’s completed his Fade. . . as long as you agree to it,” Luka said. “And as for his appointed Guardian, whoever it is, it will be a good match for Hayden. They always make sure of that.” He bent down and squeezed Beau’s fluffy face, touching their noses together, speaking in a goofy, cartoonish voice. “Until then, we’ve got him. Don’t we, Beau?”
Beau gave a short bark in response, wagging his tail rapidly and panting heavily.
I laughed at them. I thought about Luka’s statement, pretty sure he was right. They paired me up with Hayden, and I swear there wasn’t anyone more perfect for me. Although, I’d wondered if that still rang true after he’d made the Fade. As soon as he started the transition, everything was becoming a mess.
“Thanks, Luka.” I kissed Luka on the cheek. “I’ll let you get back to Sedaris.” I nodded to his book on the nightstand.
Luka chuckled. “The guy’s hilarious.”
I roamed around the house before bed to get a location on everyone. It was no surprise that Hayden was on the dock, of which I’m sure Luka was aware.
Blane was out back tearing down old targets and putting up new ones, this time of full human torso and heads. The porch light only shone enough luminance for me to make out that the “bullseye” sections of each target were a bit bigger and marked with an X at certain points around the heart, stomach, neck, and eyes.
Blane stopped in the center of the light as he walked toward the porch and looked up at me. I narrowed my eyes at him, unsure if he could see that far. He half smirked at me, almost condescendingly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. I rolled my eyes at him. Then he headed back up to the porch.
My body shook with a startle at the sudden loud laughter coming from the foyer. It was Jaxon and Indigo walking through the front door.
“I’m tellin’ you, Jax, you’ve got some skills getting a girl’s number like that after spilling a slushy all over her shoes.” Indigo chuckled.
“Dude, most embarrassing moment of my life, next to ripping one in the fifth grade musical that one year.”
They both snort-laughed, then quieted down after realizing their loud volume.
“Where in the world have you guys been?” I asked.
Two sets of surprised eyes looked up at me as I descended the stairs.
“Oops. Sorry, Ev,” Jaxon said. “We didn’t wake you, did we?”
“Of course not. You know I’m a night owl.”
Relief crossed Indigo’s face as he smiled. “We went for a ride into Savannah and hit up one of those trolley rides about the history of town. Jaxon met a girl.”
“Oh?”
“Well,” Jaxon added, “I didn’t officially meet her until the gas station for that slushy. Hence, how I got her number.”
They both laughed together again, sharing the humor in their little inside joke.
I giggled and shook my head. “Please tell me it wasn’t a red slushy on white shoes.”
“Nah,” Jaxon said. “Blue - on these really cute, beige strappy thingies. Thank God it missed her pink sundress though.”
My heart melted. My brother actually took notice to this girl’s whole outfit. I couldn’t contain my wide smile, then looked over at Indigo grinning at me.
“He likes this one,” I told Indigo.
“Oh, there’s no doubt about that. What’s her name?”
“Rose. And get this! I told her I’d need her number so I could take her out to get her a second pair of shoes in case I ever drop another drink on her feet.”
“And that worked?” I laughed.
“Of course it did. That was slick.” Jaxon popped his imaginary collar and slicked his hair back dramatically.
We all laughed.
“Nice, Jax. Just don’t do that stupid three-day rule thing and keep her waiting. You should call her tomorrow.”
&nb
sp; “Plan to,” Jaxon said behind him as he climbed the stairs. “G’night, guys.”
“Night,” Indigo and I said in unison.
I turned to my brother’s G.A. “Looks like you guys had a good time today, Indigo. I’m glad you’re getting to know each other better now.”
Indigo smiled. “Your brother is more than just an assignment to me anymore, Evika. He’s becoming a close friend for whom I’d do anything – even if that means grabbing slushies at a corner gas station at midnight.” He laughed, squeezed my shoulder, and ascended the stairs. “See you tomorrow.”
“G’ night.”
I wasn’t tired yet, so I plopped myself on the couch and watched TV. Nothing in particular, just something to give me some background noise. I’d wondered when Hayden would show up. I knew that if Luka was home, Hayden was close – probably on the dock. I felt that maybe I’d been taking up his spot being on the couch where’d he been spending most of his nights lately after finding that sketch, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. He’d just have to deal with it. Maybe he’d be forced to wake me up so we could talk. Maybe he’d see me and think it was my way of trying to hash things out. I didn’t know.
I’d nodded off to some show on the Food Network and woke up when I heard the back door open, someone’s footsteps in the back of the room behind me halted, then redirected through the hall and foyer and to the stairs. I turned to get a peek. I saw Hayden making his way up the stairs, jacket slung over his shoulder. I almost thought about asking him to stay downstairs with me so we could talk, but then I realized, he’d already considered against it after seeing me sitting there. That just made me angry.
He made no efforts to talk about the problem. None at all. He had become worse than me - silent treatment and being ticked off for way too long about something, not talking things out. When he’d crashed into my life a short while ago, he’d forced me to deal with shit head on and always talk things out after being upset about something. He was usually the reason I was angry, of course. This time the tables were turned. And for some reason, this simple sketch he’d found of himself made him more perturbed with me than anything else I’d ever done. It just didn’t seem right.
I never went up to my bedroom that night. I drifted back to sleep again, listening to Guy Fieri’s voice talking about all of the great food places he’d visited. But right before falling entirely asleep, I began to wonder, overanalyzing the facts. And then I concluded; maybe I wasn’t wrong. Maybe Hayden really did regret Fading for me.
Chapter Ten The Phantom Hunter
Before I even opened my eyes, I was awakened by the pungent scent of strong coffee. I imagined as if the aroma floating through the room had a physical form, its tentacles were hooking me by the nostrils and lifting my ass from the couch cushion. It would drag me to its nesting ground, and I’d find myself entrapped as a prisoner in a pool of black tar. I knew this scent.
My eyelids parted to the bright sunlight beaming through the sliding back door. It was almost blinding. I assessed the extreme quiet in the house. No one was up yet, as far as I could tell.
I slowly sat upright and moved my arms to stretch when my hand hit something on the couch cushion next to me. It was rolled up black fabric, heavy when I lifted it. There was a note that lay on the top, written on a crumpled up piece of paper. “Get coffee. Back porch. Bring these.”
I narrowed my eyes. I hated demands. I also hated mystery. But it didn’t take me long to figure out who wrote that note, especially after smelling that strong coffee. I unwrapped the items in the black cloth and found six heavy, throwing blades.
“Trevor Blane,” I whispered to myself. “What are you up to?”
I checked the time on the wall clock. It was almost 7A.M. I swear, this guy never slept. I don’t think I’d ever seen him actually in the act of going to bed or waking up. Throwing those knives of his was basically the only thing he did. Always alone. Never socialized, and never bothered to, really. He took the cake on introvert that was for sure.
I wondered what possibly could have changed his mind about my request to teach me how to throw. I imagined that maybe Luka or Indigo could have planted the seed to get him to finally talk to me again. Or maybe it was Hayden. As much as my angel wasn’t really giving me the time of day outside of work hours, he could still be trying, in some way, to communicate. But why through Blane? As far as I could tell, Blane hated me and hated that he was even living there in that house with me. He’d made that clear from day one, quite blatantly.
In order not stir up unnecessary conflict, I did as I was told. I poured some hot coffee up to the brim of my favorite mug and headed to the back porch with the knives.
Blane was sitting on the step, deeply inhaling a drag of his Marlboro. He turned with a side-eye at the sound of the creaking door, then blew out the smoke, looking back out to the trees once again. He said nothing.
My shoulders dropped. I’m not sure why I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to be the first to say something out loud. I guess it’s because I was hoping I’d get an explanation from him, instead of having to pick at his padlocked interior. It seemed as though his demeanor would never change.
“So, who put you up to this?” I shut the door quietly behind me, still aware of the sleeping house.
Blane cocked his head. “Why the hell would I listen to someone else?” He took a huge gulp of his black coffee.
I shrugged and sipped from my mug. “So, why am I out here then?”
He turned and looked at me in disgust, as if I had some gross shit dripping from my nose or something.
“You got my goddamn note, didn’t you?”
I sighed. And that was that. Clearly, I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guy. His nonverbal cues and actual words made my head spin. He’d invited me out with a set of his throwing knives, yet treated me like I was some chore he had to deal with. He made no sense. And even though I always tried hard to dissect people, I was going to have to learn to stop wasting my time with Blane. Running in circles wasn’t getting me anywhere.
He put out his cigarette in the ashtray and stood. I walked over to the ledge closer to him, assessing his attire. Same dirty, white t-shirt and that same black trench. I’d never noticed till then that he was never without that trench coat. He’d never removed it before, no matter how hot it was. It was much like Hayden and his love for his precious leather, but at least he’d take it off in the brutal heat. Yes, I’d already noted Blane kept his knives inside it, close to his person at all times. Maybe that was it; he always had to be ready. I don’t know.
“Let’s see you throw,” he said.
I looked down at my rolled up package of knives. “What, these?”
“Jesus. You’re sharp as shit, Sherlock.”
I glowered at him. “Just thought I’d get instruction first, before I go throwing your precious knives, dickhead.”
“The ones on me are the precious ones, princess. I’d never give you my good ones.” He scoffed.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
“Throw at one of those.” Blane pointed out to the trees.
I walked down the steps to the grass by Blane and took notice of the new targets he’d made. They were the same ones I’d seen him putting up the night before. Torsos with all of the various bullseyes. I knelt down and laid out the six knives, taking one in each hand.
“Start at ten feet away, and just throw,” he said.
I sighed. I really was disappointed that that was all the instruction he was going to give me. Throwing a knife at a target was as foreign to me as knitting a sweater. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. And I didn’t know how he’d concluded that my impromptu throwing was going to help him teach me. . .if that’s even what he was doing – teaching me.
I picked the tree in the middle and got into what I thought would be the proper stance, my right foot out, and weight balanced. I gripped the knife around the ridged handle and cranked my right arm back past my head. I took note of the weight of
the knife. It was solid and weighed down enough to bend my wrist if I didn’t keep my muscles rigid. I twisted my body to get ready for my first throw, then slung my arm forward with all the power I had, releasing the knife to what I’d hope was the target at the tree. It made a bunch of wild rotations, whipping past the tree, not even grazing it, then landed crookedly in the grass about twenty-five feet out.
I was afraid to look at Blane, but could see from the corner of my eye that he stood still, expression unchanged.
“Keep throwing?” I asked.
“All six.”
I took a deep breath and put the other knife into my right hand. This time, I made changes to my grip. It wasn’t as tight. I pointed my left finger at the target and launched the knife. With this throw, it was a bit closer to the tree, landing at the side of the trunk into a protruding root.
With the next one I threw, I kept the previous changes, but didn’t twist my body as much. I tried shifting my weight from center to the right leg as I threw. This time, the knife hit the tree and stuck, the handle facing downward.
The next few throws never made it to the bullseye, mainly just hitting the white parts of the target. But with each throw, I adjusted something and made improvement. I looked over at Blane for reassurance and some sort of direction.
“Well, I can tell you’ve been watching me, at least.” He pulled out some of the knives from the inside of his jacket and threw one at each of the targets, hitting each of their centers. It was something that I knew I’d probably never attain, that level of expertise.