by Maya Daniels
“Thank you, Mother,” I say dryly, opening my eyes to glance at the moon.
I need to move away from here. I’m standing in the open like an idiot and I have no idea where I am. Wherever it is, it sure as hell isn’t California. I head straight for the trees. If nothing else, I can at least hide behind one if anything comes my way. As I walk past the first set of trees, my feet sink into lush grass. That makes me realize I’m actually barefoot.
How the fuck didn’t I realize that till now?
Something doesn’t feel right, and it’s not the entire “other realm” feeling. No. This is different, like some invisible creature is watching me and creating illusions so it can amuse itself. I narrow my eyes and scan my surroundings.
“Where are you? Show yourself to mamma,” I mumble under my breath and snort at my stupidity.
Mamma? Really, Alexia? I shake my head at myself. I really am losing it.
I keep looking around, trying not to miss any detail and to see what or who can be doing this. I’m failing miserably. As I’m about to walk out from behind the tree, I hear it. Footsteps. And it sure as hell isn’t from just two legs. No, it’s from many.
Gluing my back to the tree, I try to breathe as quietly as I can. You never know who can hear or sense what. As the footsteps grow louder, my heart beats wildly in my chest like a drum. How’s this for a slap in the face, huh? I should’ve kept my ass on the ground and waited for Lucifer to wake me up and tell him about the portal instead of being a dumbass and going head first into Goddess knows where. I tap my head back on the tree as self-punishment. I never learn, do I?
They’re close now, almost passing me. It doesn’t sound like the marching of soldiers, but the sounds are rhythmic, like when kids play follow the leader. I slowly peek from behind the tree and suck in a sharp breath. A long line of robed figures, walking one after another, stretch past my line of vision. There are so many of them.
I can’t see who or what they are, but what makes the breath freeze in my lungs is the lanterns they’re holding in their right hands. They are like any old lantern except for the electric green light coming from them. That’s no oil lantern. When my eyes lock on the flame, my entire body shudders and it feels like hundreds of tiny hands touching me everywhere. Shaking, I open my mouth to say, “eww,” but only the “E” comes out before a hand claps over my mouth and I’m slammed backwards against the tree. I raise my hand to punch whoever is attacking me only to stop halfway, my hand neither up nor down as I stare at a beautiful blonde woman glaring at me, her mouth a thin line projecting her displeasure and her eyes blazing the promise of a fair fight if I try to push her away or hit her. I almost snort, and even still my eyes betray me because she mouths, “Don’t you dare laugh.” That only makes me want to laugh more, and the snort escapes without permission.
And before you assume I’m an idiot or too trusting, I must tell you that her energy feels nice. It feels right. That’s the only reason I’m trying not to laugh instead of beating her senseless. With careful eyes, I examine her. The woman has strength that I can appreciate now, because if she doesn’t move her hand, I will get a headache. The way she’s pressing on my mouth feels like she’s trying to push my head through the tree. I reach up and pry her hand off my face and she’s still looking at me as if she expects me to scream. I just jerk my head at her sharply and peek at the weirdos with their freaky lanterns.
Are they gone now? Well I’m not that lucky because there are still more passing by, but I realize I don’t hear their footsteps anymore. What the fuck? I see them moving. Why can’t I hear them? I squint suspiciously at the woman. Did she make this happen by touching me? Now that’s a creepy thought, so I tap my knuckle on the tree to make sure I’m not deaf. I find out that one: I’m not deaf. Two: that the woman has a knack for hurting me because as I knock on the tree, she knocks on my head. And—this one sucks big time—three: our little knocks, as low as they are, get the attention of the figures moving up the mountain.
As I glare at her to show my displeasure, I freeze at the terrified expression on her face and turn my head slowly to see what has scared her. I almost scream because one robed figure is headed right towards us, and although I can’t see the face, I sure as fuck can see the red flames that are its eyes. I didn’t think, didn’t even consider that the robed figures may hear us, let alone that I’m cornered at a dead-end.
No.
I grab the woman’s hand and bolt as fast as I can farther into the trees, veering sideways. At least I have that much of a brain, because if I run straight ahead, it will see us for sure. All that training with the angel is paying off. As we run, I get the feeling the woman has someone training her, too, because she’s as fast and as quiet with her strides as I am, and although I still have a death grip on her arm, she’s running parallel with me. We’re passing trees and jumping over branches, rocks, and dips in the ground, which makes my feet sore but we keep going. I have no idea how long we run, but eventually we slow down and then stop. plastering ourselves behind tree trunks. We wait for a while to make sure no one is coming. Feeling brave after a little time passes, I peek around. Nobody is there, but I’m grateful the moon is so bright because it ensures I will see any shadows. On the other hand, that means we can be seen too, but I couldn’t care less. As long as I have enough of a head start, I’ll be fine.
“So! You have a name?” I ask quietly as I drop on the ground, still trying to catch my breath.
Uncertainty flashes in her eyes, which is something I can totally relate to. I used to look at people the same way not long ago. You know, when your heart screams there are good people in the world, but your mind tells you go on, sucker, screw yourself again, trust the wrong person so I can keep tormenting you for years with “I told you so” when they hurt or betray you.
“My name is Alexia,” I tell her in an effort to put her at ease. She’s strung taut as a bow and I doubt she’ll answer, but as we’re all aware by now, I can’t keep my mouth shut to save my life. So I keep blabbing, asking questions. “Do you live here? Actually, where is this place?” I wait expectantly for a second, but no answer comes, so I continue with the next question. “Oooooo ... can you talk?” My eyes widen as I gawk at her. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Earlier she mouthed words but didn’t speak. She snorts at that and I narrow my eyes.
“Faith,” she says.
“I have enough faith, thank you very much,” I say, irritated.
“My name. It’s Faith.” She smiles, and I see a glimpse of her character in it. She’s self-aware, confident, and although I see the mischief dancing in her eyes, I can also see the no-nonsense attitude as clear as day. I like her already.
“Well, good for you, and at least you can talk. I was starting to think the cat got your tongue.”
“It’s not smart to talk with those things around, but I guess you have a death wish. I should’ve just left you to it, huh?” she counters, looking straight in my eyes.
“Look at you. Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” Snorting under my breath I stand up. “What are those things? Do you know?”
“No. I’ve never seen them without their robes.”
I watch as she tries to hide the shiver, and with every second, I’m forming a connection to her somehow. Sisters in arms! I snort at the thought and she narrows her gaze at me like I just sprouted a second head.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just wondering if everything is right in your head.” She rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head. “You do know where you are, right?” With one eyebrow raised, she flicks her gaze up and down sizing me up.
“As a matter a fact, I have no idea,” I tell her honestly. She was gazing in the distance as I said this, but she jerks her head sharply my way again.
“How did you get here?”
“If I’m not mistaken, this is the astral plane, so as I’m sure you are aware that the only way to get here is through the portal in the fog.” An exhausted feel
ing washes over me. I don’t want to talk anymore, to explain, to … anything. I just want to know why I’m here and to get back in my body.
“Well, at least you’re not as dumb as you seem at first glance,” she says sarcastically. That earns her an eye roll from me.
Inspecting her closer, I realize she’s as tall as I am and has curves that would make a guy drool like a fool. Her blonde hair is neither curly nor straight; it has that bed-head appearance that hints at wild, sensual pleasures. Her face has sharp, exotic features, unlike the usual baby face one might expect on a blonde. Okay, I apologize if I’m stereotyping, but you must admit that when you think of a blonde woman, you think of gentle, angelic features, not exotic, I’m-gonna-rock-your-world-and-leave-you-spinning features. At least I do, but as you well know, I’m weird and I always overanalyze everything and everyone, so never mind me. Her eyes are neither green nor blue but kind of change depending on what she says, so it’s easy for me to read her. Thank the Goddess for that, because like her or not, I’m still not sure if I can trust her. She’s projecting an alpha personality, and since I have the same genetic makeup, I have a feeling we’ll be testing the waters before we decide whether we’re on the same side. It better be quick, because I have no intention of spending more time than necessary here.
“So what’s the verdict?” she asks, her hands on her hips as she peers down her nose at me.
“Huh?”
“You’re analyzing me, so I’m asking you what the verdict is,” she asks as one side of her mouth curves up a little.
“I’ll let you live.” I grin at her. “For now,” I add as an afterthought, and she snorts, shaking her head. “How long have you been here?” I ask.
“Couple of hours this time.” Faith turns her face away but not before I notice the shimmer of tears in her eyes. It’s like a hot poker in my heart.
“What happened, Faith? Why are you here? Did someone pull you here against your will?”
“No!”
The sigh that follows doesn’t assure me much. I want to slap her to get her to tell me what happened. I’m curious, yes, but that’s not why I want to know. I’m wondering if maybe I’m here because of her. Am I supposed to help her get back, help her do something? There’s a whirlwind of thoughts going through my mind, and if she’s not talking, I’ll never know the answers.
“Okay, listen. I’m not trying to get in your business or ask personal info you are not willing to share. I’m trying to figure out if I’m here to help you, or if I should go my merry way and see why the fuck I am actually here,” I say flatly.
“Well, go ahead. Go figure it out, because I assure you you’re not here because of me. I came here on purpose.”
I can see her closing off with each word that comes out of her mouth. I want to try persuading her, but I don’t. There’s no time for that, since obviously she’s not the reason for my situation. Not because I don’t care or don’t want to help, but pick your battles and all that crap.
“Okay. I’ll let you be and do your own thing. I need to see why I was led here and then go back. There are important things that wait for me at home.” I brush dust from my legs and butt.
She looks at me, not blinking for a long moment like she’s trying to see if I’m hiding something. Maybe she’s even still trying figure out if I’m nuts. Who knows? I nod my head and only manage two steps before my foot stops frozen half way in the air. With a few words, she manages to freeze not just my footstep, but the air in my lungs too.
“Are you searching for someone that was taken from you violently?” she asks softly.
I’m afraid to move. So many emotions hit me at once—hope, urgency, excitement … it’s overwhelming. Can it be? Can somehow something, someone, or whatever has pulled me into this realm without notice brought me here so I can find my sisters, my friends, and my family?
Slowly, I turn my head, then my upper and lower body follow as though I’m worried if I move too fast, I’ll scare her and she’ll run away before she tells me what I need to know.
“Is that why you’re here, Faith? Was someone taken from you as well?” I add “as well” because she narrows her eyes, probably assuming I’m being nosy again.
“Yes, but I was too late.” She lowers her lashes and I see she’s trying to control her breathing. She’s fighting grief and tears, and I know the feeling all too well. Better than my own name, to tell the truth.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I whisper, and I can’t keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks.
She jerks her head up, and with surprise on her face, follows the tear falling from my left eye as if she’s fascinated by it. I see when she makes the decision. It is all happening in her eyes: kinship, understanding, compassion, and at the end, determination. It’s amazing to witness because human eyes are so expressive that a person’s mind can be read through them. Ha! Lucifer will be proud; I do listen when he teaches. I’ll make sure to rub it in his face when I get back.
First things first, though.
“I’ll help,” was all she said.
“Help, me?”
“Yes, I’ll help you find whoever was taken from you, Alexia.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Okay, maybe I was, at least a little. It is nice to hear it, nonetheless. I learned the hard way through my awakening to count my blessings when offered help instead of acting like an idiot and listening to my bloody ego telling me to do everything myself, even if it means going headfirst off a cliff. Been there, done that. No, thank you!
“I will be very grateful for it, Faith, but it’s not one. Many were taken,” I explain, going into the story of what has happened but skipping most details and names while giving her a brief countdown of events. No, I don’t mention the Tablets of Destiny; even I’m not that idiotic.
Her eyes get rounder and rounder like they’re going to pop out of her head. “Oh, sweet Goddess, I’m so sorry,” she whispers when I finish.
I don’t want pity. It pisses me off more than anything else. I’ll deal with anger, hatred, or anything else. Just not pity. I tell her as much.
“I have no pity, sister, I’m just witnessing your loss and pain,” she says, and I see I’ve insulted her. Well done, dumbass. My mind reminds me how good I am at putting my foot in my mouth. I have so many questions, but there is a sensation inside of me telling me I don’t have much time left before I’m sent back, so I bombard her with my questions instead of chitchatting.
“You said ‘this time’ when I asked about you being here. Do you come here often? Have you seen others? Where are those robed figures going? Did they take the people we are searching for?” I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth. “Are they hurting them??”
“Breathe, Alexia. Let’s walk and I’ll tell you what I know.” She comes closer and rubs my shoulder in an effort to comfort me.
The last question I ask makes me sick to my stomach. Have they been hurt while I was being self-absorbed with by my need for vengeance? The anger, like embers in my heart, flares to full flames in less than a second, and it’s all aimed at me. If that’s true, I’ll never forgive myself and my selfishness. Faith understands without me saying a word. Of course she would. We’re both dealing with the same feeling, and it doesn’t matter if it’s one person or ten. When someone you love is taken, it hurts. It’s not just the loss that eats you alive. It’s the self-blame, the guilt, the hurt, and the helplessness. It all sits in a lump in the pit of your stomach, leaving a gaping hole in your heart that consumes you one shallow, useless breath at a time.
We look at each other for a few seconds like we’re having a wordless conversation, and neither of us blink or turns away. I feel the bond weaving itself slowly, an etheric cord invisible to human eyes from my essence to hers, first as tiny as a piece of hair, but with every breath, it gets thicker and stronger until it’s a rope connecting us to those we allow to become part of our soul. It’s as good as it is bad. We allow too much. We let these cords form with whomever we co
me across who has an effect on us without being aware of it, so in our own sick ways we use them, either as a beacon of love and hope for those meant to walk our journey with us or as a noose for those that hurt or betray us. Cutting these cords is a messy business and not fun at all. The rope blossoming this very second with Faith is a beacon, formed of understanding and compassion. Soul connected to a soul, sisterhood. My eyes tear up and hers do too. I realize she’s seeing it as well.
“You’re a witch.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.
Faith gives me an amused smile, her teary eyes sparkling in the silver glow of the moon. “How else could I be here, may I ask, oh wise one?”
“Now that, my friend, was a stupid question, I’ll give you that much,” I say, laughing softly and shaking my head. I do have special moments, don’t I?
“Where are we going, Faith?”
“Let’s go see if the people you’re looking for are being kept where I think they are. If we don’t find them there, we’ll need to go up the mountain where their temple is.” When she shivers, it makes me wonder how bad what we must face will be, but I don’t have time to dwell on conversations in my head because we need to move.
“Okay, lead the way. Oh, and by the way, where are you from? I love the accent.” I try to change the gloomy subject. Faith starts walking deeper into the orchard of winter trees with their silver apples, and I follow, but I stuff my hands in my pockets because the apples are so tempting. Twice I catch myself with my arm raised to pick one. If I know one thing for sure, it is that when the urge to do something gets overwhelming to the point that your mind says one thing and your body does the opposite, you better make sure you take control of your body or you’re screwed all the way to Sunday.
The apples must be enchanted, and I have a feeling if I do pick one, there will be no going back from it. Not ever! I joked with Lucifer the first time I met him, and he asked me to have dinner with him because he was lonely, but I didn’t get uneasy by anything he offered. I’m very fidgety now, and every apple I pass pulls at my body.