Look for me where violets grow
The darkness shall pass; for this I know
Look for me where violets grow
Our souls are bound; for this I know
Look for me where violets grow
I will return to you Carter; for this I know
If you look for me where the violets grow
The poem was unsigned, and Carter had no memory of anyone having given it to him. It seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere, and oddly enough, its message seemed to be directed specifically to Carter.
He remembered Nurse Ivy embracing him when she had come into Vivian’s room. It must have been Ivy who placed the envelope in my pocket, he thought. It was the only thing that made sense. But why? he wondered. There was only one way to find out. He needed to find Ivy and ask her if she had written the poem and what it all was supposed to mean.
Carter headed back to the hospital to find Ivy and get some answers. He arrived at the third floor nurses’ station and asked to speak with Nurse Ivy. The girl at the desk seemed to draw a blank when he said Ivy’s name.
“I’m sorry, sir. You must be mistaken. We don’t have anyone named Ivy on our nursing staff here. Are you sure her name was Ivy?” she asked politely.
“Yes, I’m sure. She was about so tall, light brown hair, blue eyes, really nice,” he described Ivy to a tee.
The girl just shook her head and apologized to Carter. “Would you like to speak with the head nurse?”
“No…but thank you anyway.” He left, utterly confused by what he’d just been told.
He got back in his Jeep and headed down the road, trying to think of who else might have seen Ivy. Henry came to mind. Surely, with all the hours Henry had spent at Vivian’s bedside, he would have seen her.
He drove to the Thorne residence and saw quite a few cars outside the house; many of Henry’s parishioners had come to pay their respects already. He sat in his vehicle and waited for them to leave. Katherine was the last to exit Henry’s house, and after she had driven off, Carter went to the door.
Henry looked happy to see him and immediately asked Carter if he had come up with a plan to get his daughter back. Clearly, Henry was not going to let go of what he believed he saw that night at the hospital. It would be difficult to try and explain everything right now about what he’d seen, and Carter felt as though time was of the essence. Explaining his super hero abilities would have to wait until later. Right now he just wanted to know who Ivy was and why no one at the hospital seemed to know her.
“Henry, do you remember Ivy, one of the nurses who took care of Vivian?” Carter asked.
Henry thought about it for a minute and then said, “I don’t recall anyone by that name.”
“Are you sure? She was about this tall,” he held his hand up to his shoulders to show her height.
“She had light brown hair and beautiful blue eyes,” he went on with his vivid description of the person he knew as Ivy.
Henry listened with increasing interest and then responded by saying that the woman Carter had described sounded exactly like Vivian’s deceased mother, Lily.
“May I see a photo of your wife?” Carter asked, curious about what Henry had suggested.
Henry walked over to his fireplace and removed a framed photo from the mantle. He stared at it lovingly for a moment and then showed it to him.
Carter stumbled back, stunned by what he saw in the photo. He remembered the unmistakable eyes of the woman he knew as Ivy, and there they were, staring out at him from the photo he held. “This is her, Henry. This is Ivy. I’m sure of it!” he said.
Henry’s face lit up with joy. This bit of information was just what he’d needed to hear. The mere thought of Lily comforted Henry and gave him some much-needed peace about the safety of Vivian’s soul. Carter may not know what to think of all of it, but Henry did. He believed Lily had come to watch over their daughter and to take her to heaven; in fact, he was sure of it.
Carter had so much to figure out. He wasn’t convinced that Ivy, aka Lily, had the power to protect Vivian from Lucian, but he was glad that the mere thought of it offered Henry solace. He told Henry, “I have to go, but will you be all right here by yourself for a little while?”
Still holding the photo, Henry replied with a smile, “I’ll be fine now that I know Vivian and my Lily are together.”
Carter took great pleasure in Henry’s comfort for the moment, and left with a temporary sense of calm. As he headed back to his Jeep, he thought about Lily. At first, he wondered why he hadn’t noticed the resemblance before, but the truth was, he hadn’t seen Lily since he was a very young boy. His family saw her at church on Sundays but Carter had never attended the services because of his phobia, so he really wasn’t close at all with Vivian or her family. In fact, all he had known about Vivian Thorne before now was that she was the reverend’s daughter.
He pulled out the poem and read it again, trying to make some sense out of the beautiful words written on the paper. There was one thing that stood out to him: the lines that read, ‘Look for me where violets grow.’
“Where…the…violets…grow?” Carter slowly repeated the line out loud.
Suddenly he felt galvanized by the words he had repeated. “It’s a message from Vie!” he said, suddenly feeling enlivened by his thoughts. “Where the violets grow? Where the violets grow? THE MEADOW!” he shouted out, and sped off back to the ranch.
No sooner did he stop the Jeep than Carter jumped out and began running toward the meadow. It was the same place where he and Vie explored the first time she’d visited the ranch. The first time he’d seen the violet in her eyes had been right there in the meadow. “I’m coming, Vie,” he exclaimed as he darted off to the spot where he was sure he would find her.
When he arrived there, he was shattered by what he saw. All of the violets were crimped and wilted because the cold temperatures had set in. Even worse, Vie was nowhere in sight. He looked frantically around, cutting through the tall grasses and brush with his hands, searching desperately for the girl he loved. It was useless. She wasn’t there—and he feared she wasn’t coming, either.
Carter was crushed by the realization that Vie hadn’t written the poem; it had been wishful thinking on his part. He missed her so much that it was easy for him to believe that Vie was trying to communicate with him. He needed her now more than ever before to help him get her sister’s soul back. Feeling completely defeated in that moment, Carter collapsed in the field filled with the wilted violets, trying to conjure up distant memories of Vie and their time spent in the meadow. “Vie, where are you?” he said, broken.
“Get up, Waka!” a strong voice spoke to him.
Carter turned, surprised by the familiar sound of the voice that had startled him. The Chief was standing behind him with his arms folded, dressed in full Indian garb, knee deep in the meadow. The Chief only wore the ceremonial dress during special celebrations and, back in the day, during times of war.
More surprising than his clothing was the fact that he was standing in the meadow at all. The Chief did not leave the reservation, not for any reason that Carter was aware of in all the time he had known him. Carter stood up, knowing that whatever the Chief was doing there, it must be important.
Carter felt relieved, if he were honest with himself, to have his friend standing there, strong and brave. He felt defeated and knew he could benefit from the endless wisdom of the man who was like a father to him.
The Chief had always been able to redirect Carter’s attention to a place where everything fit; a place of harmony. He had the ability to put things into perspective. It was exactly the way Gabriel was, and Carter sometimes thought the two of them were kindred spirits, both with keen insight. Gabriel and the Chief knew things; they could see things in the universe that others could not see.
“It is time, Waka,” the Chief said. “Come, follow me.” Carter stood up and followed behind the brave warrior he called Chief.
Again, Carte
r found himself back on the reservation, sitting on the plateau, looking out to the Tower. The Chief spoke. “You are a great warrior, Waka, and it is time again for you to go to battle. But hear me, Waka: you must not walk alone. You have been given great powers from the Ruler of the Skies, but they are not enough to fight against the evil that awaits you. I have watched you for many, many moons, my son. You embrace the rules of the land, protecting all the gifts of nature we have been given. Summon these gifts, Waka. Use them to return what you need, so you can battle with the Dark Ones and take back what has been lost.”
Carter was completely confused by what the Chief was trying to convey to him. He was speaking in riddles again and Carter was frustrated by his inability to receive whatever message the Chief needed him to comprehend. “I don’t understand what you are trying to tell me,” he said to the Chief. “What do I need to return to help me?”
“Not what, Waka, whom,” he responded. “Close your eyes.” When Carter just stared at him, the Chief gave him a disapproving look.
Carter realized he needed to obey the request, and they both closed their eyes to meditate as one. As they locked in together, Carter could feel the wind pick up.
The Chief spoke again: “Have you ever felt an angel’s breath in the gentle breeze?”
Before he could even respond, Carter felt Vie’s sweet breath blow through his body. It was exactly as he remembered, and exactly what his soul ached to feel again.
“A teardrop in the falling rain?” the Chief said, and in an instant Carter felt tiny drops of water trickling from above. He could taste the salt from her tears in the water that fell from the sky on to his lips. He wept inside for her.
“A whisper amongst the rustle of the leaves?”
Carter was completely in tune now, waiting to feel what was to come next—waiting to feel Vie again. He listened to the crackling leaves that fell from the trees in the distance. The wind picked up the leaves and carried with them Vie’s sweet tender voice in a whisper to his ear; they spoke his name. Carter.
He was overjoyed at the sound, and his heart began to beat faster and faster. He was alive again just hearing her voice.
“Or been kissed by a lone snowflake?” the Chief called out.
Just then, Carter felt a rush of ice cold air nip at his skin, and a single snowflake landed on his mouth. As it landed, he could feel the unmistakable softness of Vie’s lips gently kissing him. It warmed his body and ignited his soul. The kiss that Vie had blown across the rainbow and into the wind had found its way to Carter after all.
“Open your eyes and look at me.”
Carter didn’t want to stop the experience but he obeyed what was asked of him.
The Chief continued speaking. “Nature is an angel’s favorite hiding place. All kinds of unexpected things grow in the most unexpected places, Waka. It is up to you to find where they hide and then bring them home. I have seen the vibrant violets which grow under the rimrock, high upon the top of the Tower. Remember, Waka, what I told you the last time we were here? If you follow, you will find what you need to conquer the evil.”
Carter thought about the riddle the Chief had given him the last time they’d sat together on the plateau. He repeated it back to himself, “The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning.” Then he thought about what the Chief had said about the violets under the rimrock on the Tower.
Everything made sense to Carter now. It all fit. He understood, without a doubt, what the Chief was trying to tell him and he knew exactly what he had to do. Carter jumped up, thanked the Chief and raced off toward the massive rock towering in the distance.
The poem about the violets wasn’t referring to the meadow; it was speaking of the top of Devils Tower. The riddle told by the Chief was leading Carter to the place where it had all ended with Vie, a place he had not revisited.
The Tower had represented the terrible end of their story in Carter’s mind, but the Chief’s words alerted him to the fact that the Tower was not the end of their story. It was only the beginning.
The Chief stood tall and proud, watching Carter as he started out on his journey to bring Kitala Olowa Zitkala, their little song bird, back home. And then he prepared for war.
Chapter Twelve
Truth and Honor
Fallon stood frozen in place, holding on to the black blade Gabriel had been searching for. She had begun to approach him, but the closer she got, the harder it was for her to watch the eyes of the man she loved grow cold, and she found herself slowing down more and more until she finally came to a stop.
Although Gabriel had already put together the pieces of the puzzle, he had hoped that he was wrong about Fallon. But looking at her standing there holding the truth in her hands was almost more than he could take. Fallon had put a knife in his back and twisted it with her betrayal, cutting him deep with a wound that even time could not heal.
Raphael stood at his side, waiting to watch the nightmare at the Gates that was about to unfold.
Fallon spoke. “Gabriel, please let me explain,” she begged him.
He glared at her for a moment and then slowly moved forward. He placed himself directly in front of her and said, “There is nothing you can say that would be of any interest to me now.”
“Gabriel, you don’t understand—”
“Silence!” he roared, forbidding her to speak another word. “You have been tried, you have been found guilty, and you will be punished, Fallon. And no one, not even Camulus, is going to be able to save you from your fate.”
“I don’t care what happens to me, but I care about you, Gabriel,” she said with sincerity.
“Stop your lying!” he shouted. “How foolish do you think I am, Fallon? You expect me to believe you care about me?” He made a disgusted face. “If this is how you care about me, then please, Fallon, don’t!”
“You need to hear me out. It’s imperative that you listen to what I have to say,” she replied, trying to ignore his hurtful words, although it was killing her to hear him speak so harshly and with so much contempt in his voice...all directed at her.
“No, Fallon, you’re wrong. I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say. I think we can all agree that anything that comes out of your mouth would not resemble what we are looking for: the truth. Do you even remember what that is, Fallon?” he taunted her. “The truth?”
“You can say what you want to hurt me. I deserve it, and I know this, Gabriel. But please, just hear me out,” she begged.
“I’m done listening to you, Fallon. There’s only one thing I want from you….now give me the diary!” he said, putting his hand out.
“But, Gabriel…”
“Now, Fallon! I’m done playing games with you!” Gabriel shouted at her.
Raphael watched the two of them challenge one another in a way he had never seen before.
Fallon walked over to a picture that hung on the wall and slid it to one side. A panel opened up behind it to reveal a small black box which was hidden inside. She handed the contents of the box over to Gabriel, saying, “This is going to change everything, Gabriel. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Gabriel held the golden angel in the palm of his hand, like Fallon had before. Then he watched as the angel’s wings flittered aimlessly about before it took flight.
The three of them watched closely as Vie’s entire existence was displayed before their eyes. It began with Vie taking her first breath. Gabriel watched anxiously, but at first noticed nothing unusual. Then, only seconds into the diary, Gabriel was horrified by the sight of Vie’s eyes; instead of their usual violet color, they were devil-red and they were staring directly at him.
Gabriel had seen those eyes before. They were the eyes of his adversary: the eyes of evil itself. He continued to watch, and just like in the story Katherine had told Carter, he saw the amazing transformation take place right in front of them. Vie’s eyes had changed to violet with no explanation as to why.
&nbs
p; The rest of her existence was no surprise to Gabriel, since he had already discovered during their mission the manner in which Vie had come to the Gates. As he looked at the black blade still clutched in Fallon’s hand, suddenly he flashed back to a day long ago…the day he’d first met Vie.
Camulus and a much younger version of Gabriel were at the entrance of the Gates, training together. Camulus was pleased with Gabriel’s progress and was telling him he would lead the Guardians someday. Gabriel was a young fierce warrior who was already exhibiting many special gifts and abilities unlike any other at the Gates.
Camulus took a special interest in Gabriel from the very first moment he arrived at the Gates; they were more like father and son than trainer and trainee. Camulus had taken one look in Gabe’s eyes and had known he was someone extraordinary. He’d taken one look into his soul and saw a true leader, one of great character and moral righteousness, much like himself. The endless admiration Camulus had for young Gabriel continued to amaze him each and every day.
As they trained, out of nowhere they felt the ground shake, and a thick fog filled the air. They couldn’t see anything, but they heard a voice—a beautiful voice that was coming from the end of the rainbow. They followed the sweet melody and found her sitting at the edge of the Gates, looking up at them with her striking violet eyes and showing an arresting smile.
Gabriel was so captivated by the tiny girl that he paid little attention to the blade that had arrived with her, but Camulus noticed it immediately and picked it up.
Gabriel looked at him briefly, wondering about the blade, but then the little girl spoke, which diverted his attention away from Camulus and the blade.
She asked Gabriel his name and he told her.
Then Gabriel asked her what her name was and she replied, “My name is Violet.” Gabriel flashed back to the present and he took the blade from Fallon. He stared at it, now remembering not only where he had seen it before, but also what he knew about the history of the black blade.
“Gabriel?” Fallon said his name cautiously. “I know it’s difficult to believe. When I saw the diary, I was just as shocked as you are now.” She tried to find common ground with Gabriel but he dismissed the connection.
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