Forgiven

by Gina Detwiler

  I try not to think about Grace and Ralph and Silas. This is what I have to do. Grace is better off without me. She will recover and move on. She will find someone to love, someone who can give her a real life, a normal life. I wanted to be that man but it is not my role. I know that now. I’m ready to face my destiny, at last.

  30: War of Hearts

  Grace

  I try to deny the things my mother had told me, sure that Jared will return soon and explain everything. But as the days and weeks pass, I have to face the fact that he isn’t coming home. He’s really gone this time.

  Every morning, I get out of bed with this knowledge. Jared is gone. He’s dead to me. He betrayed me. This is confirmed by what we learn about Darwin Speer. After his prolonged absence from the world stage, the reclusive billionaire has started making very public appearances. He shows up at swanky movie premiers and White House dinners, always with a different woman on his arm. It seems he’s become an international playboy and daredevil overnight, heli-skiing in the Alps, surfing in Hawaii, racing Formula One cars, hang-gliding over the Grand Canyon, parachuting into the Mojave desert, piloting experimental planes he designed himself, and showing off his latest engineering feat, the prototype of a one-man rocket ship to Mars. Physically he’s gone from a skinny, dark-haired dork to a muscular, toe-headed Apollo. The hair was what convinced me more than anything that Shannon had told me the truth. Darwin Speer had used Jared’s DNA to turn himself into a Nephilim, or something close to it.

  The media is obsessed with the change in him. How had he done it? Plastic surgery? Vitamins? He gives tantalizing hints about some “medical breakthrough” he’s working on.

  “The way I look at it, we’re living in an age where the Sims world has become a reality. We can create ourselves, our bodies, our brains, everything about us. We can become whatever we want to be. It’s fantastically exciting. We need to take advantage of this. What used to be a mere computer simulation of reality is now reality itself.”

  It sounds totally absurd to me, yet when Darwin Speer says it, people nod their heads and go along with it. He is, after all, the smartest man in the world.

  Silas still refuses to believe Jared has willingly entered into a partnership with Speer. “Through all he endured with Crow, he never turned, never. It was hard, so hard. But he stayed true. He didn’t give in. Why now? Why would he give in so easily this time?”

  But I know the answer. Ralph always said it would happen, one day. It happens to all the Nephilim. They go crazy. They go to the dark side, or whatever. The angel part takes over, and the human part is too weak to resist. When Jared was with Crow, he had Silas to keep him grounded. And before that, he had Ralph. But in Speer’s hands, he had no one to save him from himself.

  Ripley rails against the Interlaken Group, which is the “influence” behind Speer’s genome project, and the Hyde Foundation, which is the money. He paints a gloomy picture of what will happen next.

  “Speer will market his gene cure to his groupies and other billionaires who can afford it. They’ll open special clinics where anyone with enough cash can come and get the Nephilim Makeover. Once the USDA gives its blessing, the government will insist that insurance companies provide coverage. Hyde will figure out a way to extend its reach as a ‘charitable’ project to third-world countries. Then the government will pay billions for an exclusive contract and find some way to weaponize it.”

  We’re living out the plot of a bad superhero movie.

  No mention is ever made of Jared. He never appears in Speer’s company, at least not on camera or in the media reports. This gives me a tiny bit of hope. Lucille doesn’t appear either. Maybe she stayed in Iceland, a good place for the Ice Queen. Maybe she and Jared are together. She had a thing for him from the start. Maybe he couldn’t resist her. Maybe—

  I have to stop thinking about this stuff.

  I’ve avoided the Hobbit Hole for a while, not only because Jared wasn’t there but because Mace hadn’t left. Ralph said he could stay until he “got back on his feet.” But Mace didn’t seem to be interested in using his feet at all. Whenever I stopped by to check on Ralph and Emilia or get an update from Ripley, Mace was sprawled on the couch, eating potato chips and reading from Ralph’s extensive library.

  I found his presence not only annoying, but suspicious. What if Torega was still hunting him? What if Mace inadvertently led Torega to the Hobbit Hole? Or worse, what if Mace was really a spy for Torega, and the story he told was a big fat lie? I’ve dealt with demons for far too long to trust anyone, no matter how sincere they seem.

  I confided my fears to Penny, but she brushed them off.

  “I think he’s nice,” she said.

  “Nice? He almost killed you!”

  “That was before. He’s trying hard to change. You should give him a chance.”

  “So you’ve forgiven him?”

  “Sure. After all, God forgave me.”

  I tried to put my mind to other things, like cooking in our newly finished kitchen. It turned out that I was a terrible cook, but I hoped if I practiced enough, I might get something to turn out halfway decent. Silas and Penny pretended to like my food, but always ended up being “not that hungry.” For Silas, this was probably true. The cancer drugs ruined his taste buds, so eating was a chore for him.

  Silas has started collecting broken-down bikes from around the city and fixing them up in the old light bulb shop on the first floor. With the loft complete, he needs something to fill his days. He’s even managed to get Mace to help him, and now the two of them spend long days fixing bikes, with Mozart blaring on the ancient boom box they’d bought from a thrift shop. Silas plans to open a bike shop, selling or even giving away refurbished bikes to the kids in the neighborhood. Ralph has given him money for the renovation.

  I admit, I’m jealous of them—of their sense of purpose and ability to move forward. Once again, I’m stuck. I still inhabit the world of No-Jared, unable to get on with it.

  ***

  One morning, I get a message from Ripley.

  Come. Now.

  Scared, I grab Penny and Silas and race to the Hobbit Hole. Ralph, Mace, and Ripley are huddled around his computer in the Lair, staring at the screen. They don’t even look up when I come in. My heart skips. Have they found him? Is he dead?

  Ripley’s playing a YouTube video entitled “The Elves Awaken in Iceland—MUST SEE!” It has three hundred thousand views.

  “I was doing a random search, and I found this,” he says. “I couldn’t believe it.”

  The video is grainy and depicts a glowing figure standing on a dock, dripping water.

  I suck in a breath.

  “It’s him.”

  “Yep,” says Silas. “That’s him all right. Where is that?”

  “East coast of Iceland. I analyzed the video. No CGI or doctoring. It’s gone viral over there. It was even featured on the news.”

  “Look at the time stamp,” Silas says. “October 1. Around the same time Jared would have been in Iceland with Speer. Maybe he escaped.”

  “Then why didn’t he contact us?” I’m angry. “Why would he wander around in the wilderness like that, naked? Unless he’s gone completely crazy?”

  “There’s more.” Ripley switches to another video, this one of an old man wearing a fisherman’s hat, speaking in Icelandic. Underneath is the translation. The fisherman says he saw a Ljosalfar come out of the sea onto his dock and that he took him to Alfheim in his boat.

  “Ljosalfar?” I say.

  “It’s Norse mythology,” says Ralph. “A magical being made of light.”

  “Kind of like angels,” said Penny.

  “Exactly.”

  “Can we contact that fisherman?” I ask.

  “I got hold of the person who posted the video,” Ripley says. “The fisherman’s daughter. She said her father took the Ljosalfar to a port village, believing it was Alfheim. That’s sort of the home town of the elves. It’s possible Jared got on a ship f
rom there.”

  “But why?” I almost scream. “What’s he doing?” I turn to Ralph. “Do you know?”

  Ralph’s face is solemn and his eyes droop. “It is very likely he is headed to Norway—to the Abyss.”

  “What for? Will he try to kill Azazel again?”

  “He’s not going to kill him. He’s going to join him.”

  31: Great Wide Open

  Jared

  I walk for days without stopping, except to drink water and eat a protein bar. I find I don’t need the map. I know the way as if it’s etched on my heart, a homing beacon.

  Azazel speaks to me day and night, calling softly, Come to me, my boy. Come. He shows me the path, laid out for me like the yellow brick road. Sometimes, there is no actual trail, and I have to bushwhack through tangled brush, cross streams, climb vertical rock faces, or jump over cliffs. But it feels good to move, to walk and climb and jump again. I am getting stronger as my body dispels the weeks of drugs and idleness that wreaked havoc on my system. Each day I become more and more myself again.

  On the third night, I stop at the top of a steep embankment above a small lake. The sky has cleared and I have a spectacular view of the Northern Lights. I rest for a moment under a tall pine and stare at the sky, lost in the play of dancing light. For the moment, I am at peace.

  Suddenly, I hear was a cry from below near the lake. I can’t see anything except the lights reflected on the surface of the water.

  Ignore it. It’s only some animal.

  The cry comes again. It’s definitely human. A cry for help.

  I brace myself and jump, clear the embankment, and land in a tree at the edge of the lake. I scramble down, searching for the source. Nearer the lake I hear a low growl and another yelp of pain. As I move closer, a man comes into view, dangling from a tree branch while a young brown bear roars and swats at him with huge paws.

  Thinking fast, I look around, pick up a long stick, and charge at the bear. I howl at the top of my lungs, drawing the bear’s attention from the man in the tree. The animal swivels and swipes at me, roaring its anger. I yell even louder and bring the stick down squarely on its head. It lurches backward with a grunt and stares at me a moment, stunned. I raise the stick again—it growls but turns away and moves off into the darkness.

  I throw the stick down and go back to see if the man is all right. He’s dropped to the ground and cradles his leg, his pants ripped and bloody.

  “Thank God you came,” he says, gasping for breath. “I went to take a…you know, bathroom break, and I guess I scared him…and then I tried to run away. Not the smartest move.” He’s in his early fifties with dark brown skin, a scruff of black hair, and a short beard streaked with gray.

  “Never run from a bear,” I say. “Walk away slowly or stand your ground.” I bend down and look at his leg, where a deep gash is bleeding profusely. “Do you have any first aid supplies?”

  “Yeah. My camp is just that way.”

  I help him up and walk him to his campsite near the edge of the lake. His fire smolders, almost out. I set him down in front of his tent and throw a few more sticks on the blaze.

  “Thanks, man. You saved my life. Where did you come from, anyway? I haven’t seen a single person out here for days.”

  “It’s late in the season,” I say without answering his question. “Where are your supplies?”

  “Backpack. In the tent.”

  I find the backpack and rummage through it to retrieve a first aid kit. Inside are bandages and a packet of Celox wound-sealing powder. I rip the packet open while the man tears the bottom of his pant leg away.

  “How bad is it?” he asks.

  “Not too bad. Got any water?”

  He hands me a canteen. I clean the wound and pour in the Celox, then grab a gauze from the kit and press firmly. My whole body heats up with the weird sensation of light coursing through my veins. I turn my face away, so he’ll think the glow is coming from the fire.

  “Got a name?” I ask.

  “Mike. You?”

  “Danny. Good thing you had the Celox.”

  “I guess so. I bought the most expensive kit they had—didn’t even know what was in it.”

  “Are you traveling alone?”

  “Yeah. A buddy was supposed to come but cancelled at the last minute.”

  I catch sight of a pair of skis with his camping supplies. “You planning to use those?”

  “I heard the snow comes pretty quick here. I’ve never been to Norway before. You?”

  “Once.” I pull my hand away but see no blood leaking from under the Celox. It’s already healing. I wrap Mike’s leg with the bandage before he notices. “This should hold until you can get to the hospital.”

  “Thanks, man, you’re a lifesaver. Where’d you learn to fight a bear like that?”

  “I read about it once. Do you have a phone? Can you call for help?”

  “Nah. I’ll be fine. It feels better already.”

  “Okay then. Good luck on your hike.” I get up to leave.

  “Wait a sec. Don’t go yet. I owe you. How about some dinner? I got all this freeze-dried stuff. It’s not too bad, really, and I brought way more than I need. You could help me get rid of it.”

  I hesitate. I don’t want to stay and talk. But I sense it would not be a good idea to leave this guy alone yet. He seems fairly helpless and the bear may still be lurking nearby.

  “Okay.”

  He fills a pan with water from his canteen and I set it on the fire. Then he takes a package of sunflower seeds from his backpack and starts eating them, spitting out shells, while he waits for the water to boil. He offers me some seeds, but I decline.

  “It was a young one, though, wouldn’t you say?” Mike chews while I tend the fire. “A juvenile. Had it been older or a mother, I’d probably be dead.”

  “Brown bears are usually shy around humans. I’m surprised it attacked you at all.”

  “Guess I’m just lucky.”

  Lucky. I think of Grace.

  When the water boils, I add the food mix and stir until the mixture thickens.

  “So, what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” he asks. “Do you have a camp nearby?”

  “Uh…not much of one. I’m sort of roughing it.”

  “Ha! I guess someone upstairs was looking out for me, huh?”

  “I guess so.” I take the pot off the grate and pour the food—chicken and rice—into two bowls. Mike pulls two plastic spoons from his kit and hands me one. He starts eating right away.

  “So…you’re American, right? What are you doing out here?”

  “I’m going…to see my father.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “In the Nordland.”

  “Whoa. You’ve got a long way to go. Do you plan on walking?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All the way? In winter? Are you nuts?” He says it jokingly, but from the look on my face, he realizes it isn’t a joke after all. “Did you think about driving? Or taking a boat?”

  “I prefer walking.”

  “I hate to tell you, but I don’t think you’ll get too far. Once the snows come, you’ll be out of luck.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Why don’t I join you for a while? I could use the company. Would you mind?”

  “Your leg…”

  “It’s nothing. Doesn’t even hurt. That Celox is like magic.” He chuckles. “I’ve got no place to go, anyway. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah,” I murmur.

  “So you don’t mind if I tag along?”

  “I like to move kind of fast—”

  “If I can’t keep up, you can go on without me. You’d be doing me a real favor, you know. And I have a map to where the huts are—the DNT cabins. Super nice. These Norwegians do it right.” He takes a key from his pocket. “This key will get me into any of the self-service cabins on the trails. There’ll be food and water and beds to sleep in. Pretty amazing, isn’t it? You couldn’t do that in
America. The places would be ruined in no time. But these Scandinavians are so organized, so civilized, you know?”

  I can’t help but smile.

  He offers me a drink from his canteen. “Where you from, back in the States?”

  “New York.”

  “I’m from Chicago. Although I haven’t lived there in a while. I’ve been traveling around, seeing the world.”

  “No family?”

  “Not anymore.” Mike takes a drink. I sense there is something he’s not telling me. “When’s the last time you saw your dad?”

  “About four years ago.”

  “Wow. Well, I can understand. Living so far north, it’s not exactly on the way to anywhere, is it?”

  “No.”

  He peers up through the trees. “I bet if we got up to the ridge, we could see the lights tonight. The Northern Lights. Always wanted to see them. I’ve seen pictures, but there’s nothing like the original, right?”

  “Want to go now?”

  “What, up there?”

  “It’s not that far.”

  “I’m not sure my leg is good for climbing yet.”

  “I’ll carry you.”

  He looks at me, one eyebrow cocked. “Carry me? Seriously?”

  “Sure.”

  He chuckles under his breath. “Well, okay, if you think you can.”

  We get up and I help him to the bottom of the ridge. “Get on my back,” I say. He hesitates. “Don’t worry. I can handle it. Promise.”

  He puts his hands on my shoulders. I hoist him up so he can wrap his arms around my neck.

  “You sure you’re all right?”

  “Fine. Hang on tight.” I start the climb to the top of the ridge, which in some places, is nearly vertical. I grunt a bit to make him think this takes some effort. Neither of us speak until I reach the top. I climb over the edge and lower him to the ground.