by Abra Ebner
I finally parted my lips, trying to steady their shaking, to hide my sadness. “It wasn’t time for you to know yet.” I winced as I said it, knowing how arrogant that sounded and knowing she would have a remark.
“Wasn’t time yet for me to know? Who are you to decide when I come to know of things? Especially something this big! Edgar, you cannot hope to keep me safe by leaving me in the dark like this!” I watched her lip tremble as mine was. “I fear what you are becoming, Edgar. I fear that you’ll be just like Matthew.”
My jaw clenched as the name filled the room. Just watching her innocent rosy lips form the syllables pained me. She did not deserve what he’d done to her, to us. I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the bitter taste his name gave me.
In truth, I did see her side of it. I had all along. The reality of the matter was that there was no real explanation as to why I hadn’t told her, other than my own selfish jealousy. Thinking it made me see the Matthew in myself. I felt like stabbing my own heart. The look on her face was one I had never wished to see when referring to me. I had always wanted her view of me to remain pristine, keep her madly in love with me. But then, what was I doing?
“I’m sorry, Elle.” The word stuck in my throat, coming out in a hoarse whisper.
“You’re sorry!” she screamed, pushing me in her anger.
I grunted, surprised to find myself flying through the air and landing on the floor a few feet away. I slid a few feet before coming to a stop, slamming against the wall. As I did, I thought about how startled I was to be in this position.
Elle gasped and brought her hand to her mouth, her expression horrified and her hand shaking.
I propped my hands under my body and sat up.
Elle took one step forward, her hand still over her mouth in surprise. “Edgar, I—” She let out one flabbergasted breath. “I’m so sorry. I… I never thought I could do that. I—”
A smile began to form on my face. Our argument had reached a breaking point. I saw her fear subside as she watched me. “Elle, it’s okay. I deserved that.”
She ran toward me and knelt down, her eyes checking over my whole body and straightening my coat. “Oh, Edgar, I’m so sorry—”
Her touch was almost unbearable as my body reacted in delight, attuned to the aggression of what had just occurred. I grabbed her face and stared into her eyes. “Elle, I’m sorry. I know I’ve lied. I was jealous and selfish.”
She ran her hand down my arms, adding to my desire. “How did I do that?” she whispered. “I thought you were stronger than me?” She straddled me now, her legs tight around mine.
She clearly no longer cared that I had lied to her, too distracted by the fact that for the first time, she had managed to overpower me. “Elle, it’s just—”
There was a sudden crashing noise in the hall, and I exhaled, cursing whatever it was for stealing this moment from me. Elle’s legs got tighter as the whole house shook, creaking as though the wind was tumbling it across the meadow.
“What was that?” Elle sunk to the floor beside me.
I further cursed myself. There was no hope for reconciling the moment.
Elle grabbed my arm as though I could protect her, though we both knew that it was likely her future had already made her stronger than me.
“I don’t know.” I sensed something in the air, something familiar. It was then that I heard the music begin to play, a light violin that was accompanied by a flute. I rolled my eyes and pushed myself off the floor, offering Elle my hand as she took it. I pulled her back to her feet and we both regained our composure.
We walked to the door, cautious. Elle hid behind my back, her head peeking around my shoulder. When we reached the door, I opened it and we both looked out. I scanned the space. Margriete and Sam were in the hallway downstairs, both as frozen in shock as we were. Elle looked to Sam and Margriete as they looked up at us, their eyes searching ours for answers, but there were none.
I whispered down to Sam. “What’s going on?”
Sam blinked a few times, setting his mouth into a straight line and shrugging.
Opening the door another few inches, Elle and I both now saw that the bookshelf at the top of the stairs, where Edgar Poe’s book once resided, had toppled over. Books were thrown across the landing and strewn down the stairs, decorating the room with words.
Sam stood on his toes to try and see what I had, his angle from below skewing his view. Margriete changed into a cat, running up the stairs, the pads of her feet keeping her steps quiet. She sniffed the books and then looked at Elle and me with wonder.
There was a crackling then, and our eyes shot to the wall where the shelf had previously been. Something began to grow there, like a plant, though not quite that organic. Our mouths fell open in amazement.
“Edgar, look!” Elle pointed from behind me and over my shoulder, also seeing what I had.
We both watched in amazement as the thing continued to grow and something that resembled brass popped from the wall, finishing the transformation as it all stopped. We stood in awe, Sam staring at me as he remained out of the loop. There’s a door, I thought, keeping him informed. There was a door, a big red one, now filling the wall were the bookcase had previously been.
Elle’s fingers dug into my skin. “What is it?” she whispered.
Smoke began to billow from the jamb in thick ringlets, filling the air with the scent of tobacco. The violin and flute that we had heard before began to play for a second time, still muffled by the intricately carved red door.
“Edgar, what is it?” Elle shook me gently, asking for a second time as though I had the answers.
I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what it was as the scent and sound was something I could never forget. “I don’t know,” I replied falsely, not wanting to face the facts. I was hoping that if I disregarded it, it would go away, and Elle and I could go back to what we were doing.
Feeling the need to take control, I took one step forward. Sam followed my lead and began to climb the stairs, meeting Margriete as she remained in her feline form.
“Stop,” I hissed. I put my hand up and they halted. “Let Elle and I handle this.”
I saw Sam smirk as he reached down, scooping Margriete into his hands. He was glad to see me snap out of my vegetative trance, so he didn’t interject. Margriete gave him a curious but angered look of disapproval, her tail twisting back and forth and her claws extending into Sam’s arms. Margriete did not like being told what to do about as much as Elle did, so I understood her anxiety.
I was so caught up in what Sam and Margriete were thinking that I hardly noticed as Elle pushed past me, taking the lead. Her face was fixed on the door, her arm behind her placed firmly against my chest, preventing me from getting ahead of her.
Without hesitation, she walked straight up to the door and grabbed the handle, inspecting its brilliance for a moment. Her other hand was resting against the wood, as though testing the temperature. She leaned in and placed her ear against it, her breathing shallow as she listened.
With a frustrated face, she pulled back, her hand still on the handle of the door. Steamy marks began to outline her grasp, her heart beat drumming in my head. She took one last deep breath before twisting the handle and pushing in, no longer faltering and ready to face whatever was on the other side.
I thought of her journey into Heaven then, wishing I was there to watch as she grew from a scared little eighteen-year-old girl into the strong woman I had always known, the strong woman I now saw.
My jaw clenched as smoke billowed from the door, washing over her in a wave of white and filling the hall with a noxious gas. Margriete sneezed in Sam’s arms. Elle fanned her face. Her eyes were narrow as the smoke surely stung them, as it did mine. I looked to Sam one last time, seeing he was poised and anxious, on guard if we needed him. He nodded to me, allowing me to take control of the situation and be Elle’s guardian for now.
Elle did not bother to look at me as she took a step forward and
in, disappearing as the smoke engulfed her. I exhaled and followed her as I too stepped over the threshold, the smoke seeming to suck me in with open arms. I felt the thick smell of cigar fill my lungs, burning any taste bud I had left and making the air thick to breathe. Coughing the air out, I stopped breathing all together. I brought my hand to my mouth to cover it, batting away the smoke with my other. There was no need for me to breathe anyway, but it was a hard habit to break. The violin and flute continued to play, and as Elle halted before me, the smoke cleared and my eyes finally met those of our visitor.
“Hello!” His voice echoed off the walls of the small addition to our home, the smoke continuing to dissipate as though it were being sucked from the room.
I assessed the situation, seeing the grey stone walls spanned about fifteen feet all around. There was a pedestal on top which sat a red velvet throne chair, gilded in gold around the edges. I laughed to myself, recognizing and knowing how this particular visitor enjoyed a bit of drama. In my experience, he had always been the thespian, and as such, life in Heaven had reflected that. I was relived in knowing, no longer wondering what other possible threat it could be—this one could be contained.
I walked up beside Elle, turning to look at her. Her face was solemn and hard, my previous joy now fading.
Elle stood tall, her feet planted firmly on the ground. The god she had so despised was now sitting before us, invading our home. He leaned casually on the arm of the red velvet chair, three feet above us. He seemed cheerier than normal, but I suppose to intrude on us like this, he had to act like a pleasant guest. I watched him with a face that mimicked Elle’s, trying my best to be supportive and gain back her trust. Smoked seeped from his mouth as he chuckled, blending with his long white beard, a smell that I was certain was impossible to wash out.
“I thought you promised to leave us alone?” Elle’s voice was unlike anything I had heard before—a murderous rage coating every word in vengeance.
Chills racked my dead body as I looked at her with shock. She did not look back.
The god laughed louder now. “I did say that, didn’t I? But, I did not say for how long.” He looked amused by his reply as he narrowed his eyes. He chewed on the end of the cigar, leaving a film of glistening spit on the roughened tobacco leaves.
I could feel the anger emanate from Elle’s body, filling my own heart with a hate I only felt in the darkest of times. She shifted her weight, like a lion does before a kill. I swallowed hard, memories of death rushing back to me as I took in the god’s face.
When I had woken in Heaven, before I was sent home, this god was the first I had seen. He made me promise that I would condition Elle for his arrival and I feared now what he would do to me, knowing that I hadn’t fulfilled his wishes. The old man looked at me then, as though he knew what I was thinking.
He raised one eyebrow as a half smile wrinkled his face. “Hmmm.” His voice was deep as it echoed off the stone walls of the small space. I was afraid, something foreign to me.
I shifted my weight, feeling a cold tremble begin to form under my shirt. I did not fear much in this world, but after what they had done to me, I did fear them. As far as I knew, this old man was the leader. The god of god’s, so to speak. Elle took a threatening step toward him then. Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed her arm. I tried to pull her back but she only looked at me with disdain, ripping her arm from my grasp as she slid with ease through my fingers.
“Oh, ha ha!” The god laughed, enjoying the tension between Elle and I.
She spun back to face the old man, in no apparent mood to entertain him. “I may not know you very well—” She marched up to the pedestal, her gaze even with his chest as she stood tall. As the thespian, he had chosen to sit in a raised position. It was just enough to create a sense of intimidation, but that didn’t seem to faze Elle. “But I do know that you are a spineless excuse for a leader.”
I winced, fearing her words and what they would do. I prayed that there wouldn’t be a fight. I was not in the mood.
The old man laughed. “Please, my child. Spineless? Call me Nicholas instead.”
“I do not care what your name is, nor do you deserve to be addressed by one.” Elle spat at his feet.
I cowered in fear. “Elle, don’t,” I whispered under my breath.
She turned to me, hearing my words. “What?” Her eyes were raging. I found then, that for the first time, I was the weakest person in the room. “He has no right to be here!” she hissed.
I looked at Nicholas, and then back at Elle. “Well—”
Elle stormed back toward me. “Well, what, Edgar? Is this another secret of yours, a lie? I suppose this spineless cretin vacations here regularly, does he?”
“Well, no.” I tried to defend myself, but I saw there was little I could say. For Elle, my excuses no longer held any clout.
Nicholas watched us with a delighted smile on his face, inspecting his nails as he leaned comfortably in his chair.
Elle gave me one last warning glare, looking to Nicholas instead. “Why are you here? Answer me now!” She stomped her foot.
Nicholas chuckled once before taking a deep breath, exhaling away the humor. “I see that Edgar has not told you! This is absolutely delightful. Bravo!” He began to clap, his gold rings clanking together.
Elle did not look surprised by his answer, and I felt heartbroken. I knew she had expected it. So much for reconciliation.
“Your Edgar here was given specific instructions to prepare you for my arrival.” Nicholas rolled his eyes and lifted his chin, his cheeks now rosy. “But I suppose you can’t trust anyone to carry out even the simplest of tasks these days.” He yawned, allowing his hand to wave through the air.
His remark sent me into further guilt and turmoil.
“Since he has not filled you in on your intended task, or rather fate, then I will.” Nicholas sat up, blotting out his cigar on the armrest of the chair, his brows poised. He cleared his throat and licked his lips. “There is a prophecy here for you.” He waved his hands around in front of him, gesturing toward the house. “It is important you see it. There, you will find exactly what you need for this task.”
Elle was concentrating hard. “A prophecy?” I saw the wonder in her face.
“Yes, dear.” The god exhaled, now bored. “A prophecy.” He was bitter, knowing that it came from Fate.
Elle looked down at the ground for a moment, then back to the god. “What task?” She was full of questions. “I promised you nothing. And if you can remember, I bargained that you would stay away from the surface of this world. Yet, here you are, as though those words meant nothing.”
He laughed whole-heartedly. “My dear! Those words did mean nothing. How can you prove you even said them at all?” He tilted his head, glaring with one eye.
Elle growled at him, her teeth grinding as the sound edged in my ears. “Then why should I help you? Why, when you’re nothing but a back stabber?”
He looked angry that she would defy him to such degrees. “You will because you have no choice in the matter, dear child. You must do this task.” The god’s spine was stiff with anger.
She frowned. “Then I will ask once more, what task?” she yelled, causing the god to lean back and away from her.
After a pause, he laughed again, as though unsure just what to do: kill her or tell her. “What task? My child! You are to save us all! Only you can.”
Elle’s face sank, and I could hear her heart begin to race in the depths of our soul. “Me? Why me?” Her voice was breathy and scared. Her eyes darted about the room.
My nostrils flared. I wanted to comfort her, to tell her I was sorry. It was me that was meant to give her the news—not him. From my mouth it would have been better. At least then it wouldn’t have seemed like a death sentence.”
“You are the last pure child of Earth. The last that can give life,” Nicolas answered with a smile, as though it wasn’t true that his life and his world, was also in danger.
Nicholas’s face grew solemn. “I could, but that would result in my death. I am not willing to die and allow all of you to live. Ha! Imagine, Nicholas the philanthropist saint! Not for me. I am far too shellfish for that. This is my world, after all. The creator should not be the one that dies. Besides, there is no guarantee that if I did try, that it would even work!”
Elle shook her head, her eyes beginning to water. “No—” I saw her stubbornness return. “No, I will not do this. I cannot do this.”
“But you can.” His voice dropped. “And you will.” Nicholas stood on his pedestal now. “I will only warn you once, my child. If you do not do this now, then I will kill Edgar before this world does, and by doing so, you will be cursed to live an eternity as an empty soul. You will be doomed to roam the galaxies of this universe without a home, and with no one but yourself to comfort you.”
Elle’s fists were stiff at her sides, the blood running out of them as she squeezed as tight as she could. It was sadistic to think, but that simple gesture filled me with hope. She still loved me, despite my lies.
“You see, I can still bargain with you after all.” Nicholas’s smile returned to his face as she looked down his nose at her, his hands grasping the hem of his robes.
“But there is not enough time,” Elle pleaded, her grip relaxing back to fear.
Nicholas tilted his head. “I suggest you get started then.”
Elle said nothing, but was never given the chance even if she did. In a sudden pop, Nicholas had disappeared, leaving a swirling cloud of smoke behind him as the snuffed cigar fell to the ground. Elle broke down then, falling to her knees and putting her face in her hands.
“Elle, I—” I walked up behind her and tried to comfort her by placing my hand at the base of her neck.
She spun away from me onto the floor. “You’ve done plenty of damage, Edgar. It’s bad enough that all you are is a bargaining chip to be used against me. Let alone the fact that I am all alone because you refuse to help.” Her voice became low. “So do me a favor, Edgar. Quit getting in my way.” Her face held little emotion or color.