Airel

by Patterson, Aaron

  My mind fluttered, going into emergency procedures. Michael’s eyebrows lowered, making me wonder what he was thinking. “I’m fine, just hungry. It all looks so good.”

  I guess I should have seen it coming. For the first time—well, the first time consciously—I heard something: It was Michael’s voice, but distant, as if it was coming from a thousand miles away. “I can’t go on like this; I have to tell her.” It was Michael, but not his spoken voice. I was hearing his thoughts. I was reading his mind; I remembered what Kale had told me about the ‘gift.’ It was a small voice in the fog, but it was all Michael’s.

  “Well, good, ‘cause there’s plenty to eat here.” He seemed to lose some of his trademark spark. I hadn’t really noticed it until it had gone, but it had always seemed to be toward the back of his eyes, illuminating his gaze. I wondered what he was holding back from me, and what it meant.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” He moved the bowl of fruit over to where I was sitting, serving me. “Just thinking of how crazy all this is. We’re in this beautiful house with everything we could want: food, clothes, great trails to hike. No TV or games, but I really haven’t missed ‘em all that much.”

  I smiled; he was so cute. He was the one person I could never fear, or even see myself becoming fearful around, like some guys I knew. Deep down, I think a lot of girls have this underlying fear of a man they know could kill them, crush them with sheer strength or will. He was so strong, built like a rock. But I knew he could never use his strength to hurt me, no matter what. His strength made me feel—safe.

  We sat and ate breakfast for quite a while, enjoying the luxury of one another’s company. I realized that we hadn’t really had much time to ourselves, for all that had happened. And if we had an easy time before the kidnapping finding common ground, our present situation was like double-sided tape between us.

  We spent the day doing ultimately forgettable things, just enjoying each other’s company. My grandparents would say we were strolling, because life was slower then, more easily enjoyable, probably. Yeah, and there was horse poop in the streets, too. I guessed every age had its gilded edge. But it didn’t matter. I was finally, finally, getting to indulge myself in what I wanted the very most: Michael Alexander. And it was glorious.

  The air was cool, with a hint of rain. The trees and the undergrowth seemed to open to it, as if enjoined to the sense that something was coming. The woods came alive with anticipation of the life-giving rain, and we stood silently in the midst of it, looking up from russet-colored earth through giant redwood boughs that reached to the darkening sky.

  Michael looked great in his worn-out blue jeans and dark blue windbreaker. We had both found hiking boots in our rooms. They were new and lightweight. I guessed Kale had gifted us with such niceties. I winced at the thought of him. I wondered if that assessment was unfair now. I knew I needed to ask him about it and find out what was really going on. Why had he killed the man in the movie theater? Was that guy a ‘bad guy?’ He had to be; I couldn’t see Kale murdering someone in cold blood.

  “So. We need to talk,” Michael said unexpectedly. We were moving along a well-worn path guarded by green shrubs and ferns that brushed our legs as we walked by.

  “Yeah, I guess we should try to work out some nagging questions about this whole mess. What do you know so far about why we’re here?” I wondered if he believed Kale’s claim that I was a descendant of the Sons of God, a half-angel of sorts.

  “Well…” He shooshed in a heavy sigh as he began, “I think I’m here by accident. He’s interested in you, and I just happened to get in the way.” His face clouded over.

  “Yeah, but somehow I think Kale wouldn’t mess up like that. He doesn’t seem to do anything on impulse. I mean, just look at how he lives. Everything is just-so.” I jumped up on a log that had fallen across the path and Michael vaulted over it without even thinking.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter why I’m here. He wants you, to train you… to do what? Develop your ‘powers,’ or the powers he believes you may have.”

  “Michael…” I wondered if he remembered my head injury, and if he was still fighting the reality of what was going on. “I do have some abilities that I cannot explain. You remember when I fainted at football practice?” He nodded as we kept walking. “Well, it healed. I heal very fast. I’ve tried it out a few times, and it’s true. I’m also strong enough to kick down the heavy door to my room… but that one I’m still trying to figure out.” I left out the mind-reading bit. No use freaking him out.

  “So he’s telling you that you’re part angel and part human? That’s kinda… unbelievable, really.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I felt like I had to say that just so he wouldn’t feel awkward. But I believed it readily enough for me.

  “You know, it feels like we’re in a movie or something. I just wonder when we’re going to wake up. Maybe when we do, we’ll find ourselves back in the mall parking lot, where we started. On our first date.” He looked at me.

  He was so romantic. I could die. The memories came back, honestly warm and fuzzy. “I know, it’s weird, huh. But for what it’s worth, I believe Kale. I don’t know why—but I do.” Up until this point I did not know what I really thought of our kidnapper. I didn’t like the situation. But I knew I could trust him. He seemed to have this code of honor, one he would never cross. They say that chivalry is dead—but what if that age was still clinging to someone who had actually lived through it? How would they go about their days, I wondered. There was something about Kale that was different in that respect.

  “I think I trust him,” I said, trying to close the deal. “He seems to know something that we don’t.” I paused for a minute, thinking. “Ya know, it’s like he kidnapped me on purpose. Maybe to protect me from something?”

  “Yeah, that’s true enough, I guess. From what though? ‘The Brotherhood?’ I doubt they still exist, though they might have a long time ago.” Michael was playing with a long blade of grass and the tip bounced in his hand like a bobber on a lake. It was hypnotic.

  “Well it’s possible. Who knows,” I said. “All I know is that I need him for now—I have too many questions about these so-called abilities, and he seems to have all the right answers.” I looked at Michael. “So far.”

  He seemed to resist what I was saying.

  “Look, I just want to be careful. I need to figure out what I can do, if anything, to get control of my abilities before I hurt someone I care about.”

  “It’s not that.” He looked genuinely disturbed and worried. “Airel, you know that even though we don’t know each other that well, I still feel you’re…” He hesitated, his gorgeous blue eyes hiding behind a momentary shadow. He took my hand in his and looked at it. He was so warm. The touch of his skin made me feel a shock in my arm running straight for my heart. He looked into my eyes.

  “Airel, I want you to know I’m falling in love with you. And it’s not a crush—we all know what that is. But this…” He put a hand to his heart and closed his eyes, taking a moment.

  I cannot express in words how I felt, the way all of me was bound up right inside that moment.

  “…This is the real thing. This kind of thing is like winning the lottery. You can go a lifetime without ever finding anything real. I love you, Airel, and all I need from you is to know that one simple thing.”

  My heart hurt as it swelled with emotion. I took his face in my hands and made him look at me. This time his eyes were clear and brilliant. “Michael, I love you more than life itself. No matter what happens to me, or… or how I change… I always will.”

  I could almost feel his soft lips about to gently brush my own, in the prelude to a kiss—but I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. The anticipation of it was killing me. But I knew if I kissed him it was all over. I would be positively head-over-heels and I needed to hold back a small part of my heart until I figured all this out. And I may have been only seventeen, but I knew well enough that t
he first kiss with that special someone always started a fire that couldn’t be put out.

  Michael pulled me closer, enveloping me with his strong arms. I laid my head on his chest in surrender. That’s where I belonged, where I wanted to be. If I could have stopped time, I would have frozen it right then.

  As Michael held me, I could feel his heart beating against my cheek. I searched the spaces in my mind and tried to read his thoughts again, but all I heard was crying. Was he crying? I pulled away and looked up at his face. It was dripping with pain and sadness. There in the deep pools of his eyes was a force that I didn’t understand.

  Something was tearing him apart from the inside out. No tears were in his eyes, but I could hear it in his head. I could picture a little boy crying in a dusty corner. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself closer to him.

  “It’ll be okay, Michael. I will always love you. Everything’s going to work itself out, you’ll see.” I buried myself in his scent. It was him, Michael, my Michael. I could feel that little part of my heart I was trying to hold back slipping. Michael, with all his charm and mystery, was the only man I wanted to be with.

  We sat like that for quite a while, the storm gathering closer to us. When the wind began to whip and gust, we both realized we were cold and underdressed for the weather. We felt a little too far from the house and broke apart, standing. My feet had fallen asleep. I put my hands in my back pockets and stepped back from him a little. He seemed like, whatever he had been dealing with, he was mostly over it now.

  He looked at me mischievously and smiled, putting his arm around me. “So. Can I see one of these superpowers?” His eyes sparkled and a small grin spread across his face.

  “Boys!” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “You’re all the same.” I walked in a circle, looking on the ground for something sharp. “Okay, the one I know the best involves healing. It hurts—but it’s really cool.” I found a jagged looking branch on the ground and began to try to dislodge it from its entanglements.

  Michael stood up with a look of concern on his face. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be fine. Watch.” I finally broke off a chunk and examined it. “Yep, that’ll do.” It looked like a giant shark’s tooth. I held it in my right hand and lifted it high over my head. Before I could change my mind or hesitate, and in the midst of Michael’s protests, I stabbed it down into my other hand as hard as I could.

  “Airel! Are you okay?”

  I growled in pain. I held my hand up, the chunk of branch buried and standing up in my palm. I wanted to do that little hopping dance that people do when they stub their toe or whatever. But I kept my courage by looking in Michael’s eyes. I could feel my hand begin to itch. I yanked the thing out of my palm and tossed it away. I held my bloody hand out to him, and we watched as the blood flowed, carrying little bits of dirt and bark and splinters with it.

  The itch was more powerful than I remembered; I wanted to tear my own hand off in order to make it stop. Tiny fingers of flesh reached out and grasped one another like old friends. A patch was made, then the skin closed over. What blood was left I wiped on a nearby fern. Michael stared at me with his mouth hanging open.

  “I am so showing that to all my friends,” he said with a look of utter amazement on his face.

  “I don’t think so, mister. I’m not a party trick.”

  “Duh, I was kidding. But you’ve gotta admit it: that’s the coolest thing ever!” His eyes sparkled as he looked at me with what I reckoned as newfound respect.

  “Yeah, cool. But it’s also a secret. No spreading it around that your girlfriend can heal herself. All I need is a bunch of hormone-happy boys running around sticking me with knives and sticks just to see what will happen.”

  He laughed in a manly way, making me giggle. “I won’t tell a soul.” He flashed me puppy dog eyes. “Scout’s honor!” He gave me the two fingered salute, making me laugh even more.

  Chapter III

  1250 B.C. Arabia

  Kreios and Yamanu pulled up in midair, hovering high above the tree line. They conversed in thought.

  “There, west of the lake, in the trees.” Kreios pointed to a thick stand of trees on the western edge of a long lake. It produced a tributary that wound down and around in the wide valley, finding its terminus in the sea, which was within sight at this altitude. Yellow flames of light danced within the darkness of the forest, and the sound of undisciplined voices could be heard bouncing across the still water.

  “How many?” Yamanu pulled his hood up over his head and tied the leather thong under his chin.

  “Eight hundred, maybe a thousand. More would have come if they knew about Ke’elei. I am surprised the Seer allowed them to have campfires… he has grown arrogant and foolish in his old age.” Kreios touched the Sword hilt and felt better at once.

  Yamanu grunted audibly. “Maybe. Or, he knows something we do not. Caution and a solid plan will go a long way toward keeping us alive long enough to see beautiful Eriel grow up and marry.” His thoughts made colors of blue and red in Kreios’s mind. He did not know the meanings of every color, but he knew that it was never good if black or dark purple surrounded a particular thought.

  “Find their weakness and exploit it.” Kreios donned his hood.

  “Yes.”

  “We may need some fog…” They cinched down their gear, double-checking that they would be silent, and turned toward the north side of the lake, downwind, to prepare their infiltration of the enemy camp.

  They landed in knee-high grass silently, the enemy camp within sight. Kreios pulled a short dagger from its sheath, touching the grips of the Sword for comfort. “We must move with speed. The longer we are in their midst, the weaker we will become. I will signal when I feel my strength failing—”

  Yamanu nodded, unsheathing a dagger of similar size and shape.

  There are moments to which men and angels have been brought throughout their destinies that have shaped the paths they have walked forever afterward. Some have been ready for it when it came to call. Some have not, and possibility shifted irrevocably from that point forward. Kreios knew El to be jealously intrepid in His pursuit of the created, however. He would roadblock, shunt, redirect, nudge, push, pull, convince, debate, and tirelessly chase down His children within the circle of the destiny He had created for them until they grasped it.

  Kreios knew that he could not ultimately miss his destiny—in a sense—but he knew that it was still possible to fail tonight. He determined, therefore, to rise to the occasion with his very life forfeit, if need be.

  Kreios felt Yamanu turn to a deeper place that he could not access; the color of his thoughts turned bright white. The ground slowly began to cover with thick fog, which spread from them outward and rose like the dead in the coming resurrection.

  Kreios was ready to deal in real justice now—and as the fog rose around them, enfolding them in concealment, he filled up his Sword with retribution, the wages of sin, the reward of judgment reserved for those wicked enough to ask for fairness.

  Kreios opened his eyes and beheld his hand. It was almost transparent, and the dagger in his hand could not be seen. His friends had always told him that he had no imagination. The sight of his own flesh disappearing right before his eyes, however, made him break into a fresh smile.

  Yamanu opened his eyes too, looking at Kreios with a hearty invisible smile. “You must keep careful track of me. I will let you know if you are in danger of straying too far from my side and losing cover.” He paused, then said aloud, “Not bad for an old man, eh?” He chuckled, slapping Kreios on the shoulder.

  “Careful I don’t kill you, boy.”

  “You’d have to see me first, little girl.”

  Kreios almost laughed out loud. Yamanu turned aside in his mind, Kreios opened up to him, and then they could see one another in the fog through their thoughts. It was an odd sensation to see with the mind and not with the eyes; it reminded Kreios of true faith. “The evidence of th
ings not seen…”

  They moved through the fog into the dark wood, alert, the fog penetrating before them and trailing after them in the wind. The Seer was sleeping, truly—campfires.

  Chapter IV

  Somewhere in the Mountains of Idaho, present day

  I dreamt the story of Kreios, the fight for his daughter Eriel, and the memory of his amazing love. I took great pleasure in fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. He was someone who had loved without fear of death. He was all-or-nothing. A little like me, really, which I liked—though I feared death like nothing else. In that sense I’m still normal.

  I read the entire book in two days. I loved to read stories that I could relate to. I could relate to the story of an angel—epic battles, soaring sonic booms, deep and meaningful friendships. I guess it’s true that the best stories are somehow universally true. I felt like I knew Kreios, that somehow I was linked to him in ways I could only dream and think of with the aid of She.

  Michael didn’t read the book for a couple reasons. One, because Kale insisted that it was for me and me alone, and two, because when Michael opened it all he saw were blank pages. No amount of focusing or magical wishing could bring the smooth script into focus for him. I, however, grew to love that handwriting and could recite every line. I cherished each letter as if written to me.

  Kale left me alone as I studied my ‘history.’ I spent most of my time by a tree, seated on the clump of green grass under its branches. I felt each day that passed drew me farther out away from the only home I had ever known.

  I missed my home fiercely. Thinking of Mom and Dad made my heart sick. I wished I could at least call them to let them know I was okay, though that probably wouldn’t help once they started asking me questions. Even so, I was growing apart from that home and into a kind of new life. Could a person forget so soon?

  Here in the heart of the woods, I began to like the quiet. It was the not-so-busy life; like how Jane Austen’s characters would just walk and talk their lives away.