Haunting Echoes

by Caethes Faron

  “I have no idea, and I don’t want to ask. I’m certain he knows I’ve been killing, but I don’t know if he’s aware of Michael.”

  “What’s he going to do?”

  “Nothing, at least for the time being. I think he trusts me to stop now that he’s brought it to my attention.”

  “Then you have to stop. Are you going to be able to hold yourself together once he’s born again?”

  “I don’t know, Meg. That’s why I’m here. I think I need to see him next time.”

  “Well, it can’t turn out worse than this time.”

  A rueful grin overcame Amaia. “No, it can’t.”

  “You need a plan. You can’t leave it to chance.”

  “I think just knowing that I can look forward to seeing him will prevent me from losing control. I’ll focus my time on my work with Lawrence. He wants to see me improve quicker, and I admit that I’m interested to see how far I can take my power over auras.”

  “Good. To be honest, I don’t think Lawrence much cares what you do as long as you put your work first.”

  “I agree. I’ll keep my visits to Michael discreet. When he’s only got a year left, I’ll approach him. That way, if it’s a problem, at least it won’t last long. I’ll keep the conversation strictly on our time together as mortals and on his lives. If he wants to see me, he’ll have to agree to my terms.”

  Meg nodded. “You must promise you’ll come to me at the first hint of trouble.”

  “Of course.”

  “I want to hear you say it, Amaia.”

  Amaia resisted the urge to flippantly repeat the words. She needed Meg. Promising to come to her was in Amaia’s best interests. “I promise I’ll come to you at the first hint of trouble.”

  “You must do everything you can to keep Lawrence from suspecting that you’re seeing Michael.”

  “I know. I’ll be careful. I’ll only visit when I know Lawrence won’t notice.”

  Meg reached over and clasped her hand. “Now that you’ve brought me in on your plans, I can help with that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you really going to be able to lie to your maker?”

  “Haven’t I been doing that already?”

  “Yes, but this is much bigger. It’ll be harder.”

  “I know.” Amaia didn’t relish the thought of deceiving Lawrence about something so significant, but she didn’t have any other choice. She couldn’t choose between him and Michael. It scared her to think which choice she would make if forced to decide.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Algar, March 1747, 24 years, 2 months later

  This must be what walking to the hangman’s noose felt like. Only, unlike a mortal, Amaia knew she would make this walk more than once. There was no deceiving herself into believing that Michael would not return and remember her after he died this time. This was the new pattern of her existence.

  The clanging of hammer on metal reverberated in the air, signaling that Michael was working. The sound invariably brought a smile to her face. In a few seconds, she would see him. She never tired of observing his work. In this life, he made his way as a blacksmith and farrier in addition to farming his little plot of land. The physical work made for excellent entertainment.

  The wind carried the faint, bitter smell of fire. Ever since Michael had started his apprenticeship as a blacksmith years ago, the tang of smoke in the air conjured his image in Amaia’s mind. The years had worn down her defenses, and she no longer fought his frequent appearances in her daydreams. Watching the pride he took in his work, the manner in which he conducted himself, stirred something in Amaia. When she didn’t struggle and simply let herself be, she understood how she had fancied herself in love with him.

  She could make out his form in the distance. A film of sweat covered his skin as he labored away in the smithy connected to his small home. Beads of it rested on his shoulders and the angular planes of his face. His chocolate-colored hair fell in unruly curls, a contrast to his clean-shaven, square jaw. A chill lingered in the morning air, but the heat of his exertions and the fire had chased away his shirt. Such a magnificent sight. In Amaia’s professional opinion, he was quite a fine-looking man. Would that the men who could afford her worked such rigorous labor.

  The muscles of his back rippled as he brought the hammer down, forming the metal into a horseshoe, strong and solid. He performed his work with care and precision that seemed at odds with his large frame. The lines of his body were seared into her mind. She had spent countless hours watching him, becoming lost in his work, letting the peace and stillness that so eluded her in the rest of her life envelop her. This day would be different.

  Only a year of his life remained. She had stayed in the shadows, watching him more and more as he grew older. A few months before, both of his parents had died from a fever. For a stretch of time, Amaia had wondered if Michael would follow. She didn’t know whether she wanted him to or not. The measure of relief when he didn’t was disconcerting, but not as surprising as it would once have been. After the funeral, he had decided to sell his parents’ home and set out on his own. He’d wanted to start his own smithy and had only moved to Algar a few weeks before. It coincided well with her own move to Madrid. She now lived less than seven hours away from him. Perfect.

  Her nerves were just as bad as last time, maybe worse, but she was resolute. She swept the dirt off her dark blue dress, smoothed the lace accents, and approached him. As she drew near, Michael turned at the sound of her footsteps. The smile that lit his face ignited a spark inside her. He threw the horseshoe in the cooling bucket and ran to her.

  “You came.” Michael swept her into a hug.

  “Yes, a little later than I promised.”

  “You didn't promise a time. All I care is that you’re here.” That was just like Michael. He’d always insisted on seeing the best in her, whether it existed or not. “Oh, Jocelyn, it’s been so long.”

  Amaia pushed him away. “Don’t call me that, Michael. It’s not my name anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

  “All right. What would you have me call you?”

  “Amaia.” It was risky having him know her by her vampire name, but she couldn’t stand hearing her mortal name on his lips. It was a lie. She wasn’t that girl anymore, and she wasn’t going to pretend she was.

  “Amaia. That’s pretty. Amaia it is.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Here, come sit.” Michael gestured to a wooden bench outside the smithy. It was the perfect size for both of them. “I looked for you the day after you came to see me last and then the next and the next. Even in this life, I’ve kept watching for you. I’ve felt you near, but I never saw you. I had almost given up hope that you’d return. But here you are. I should have never doubted.”

  His faith in her was as foolish as it had been during her mortal life. She wanted to apologize to him, but the mere thought of apologizing to a mortal was ridiculous. “I can’t get away easily.” As if that explained everything.

  Michael’s smile didn’t falter, as if trysts frequently spanned lifetimes. “Where do you live?”

  “Michael, I’m here because I told you I would be—and truth be told, I’m curious about you—but I won’t speak about what’s happened since the life we shared. I’m only interested in discussing that time with you. If you need to know about what’s happened since then, I’ll have to leave.”

  Michael looked crestfallen, like a child whose kite had lost the wind. “Please, don’t leave. You only just got here.”

  “And I want to stay, but it has to be on my terms.” He’d been willing to accept her on her own terms before, when he’d courted her. She’d loved him for it.

  “That’s fine. We can talk about anything you like, so long as you stay. We don’t have to speak at all if you don’t want to. I could just sit here and look at you for hours.” Michael swept a hair that had escaped its pin from her face. The touch was familiar and comfortable, soothing her n
erves. “You’re even better than my dreams. Praise God for keeping you in your original form.”

  Amaia winced at his use of God. Of course he would be religious like every other cursed human, the way he had been in his recent past lives, but somehow she wished he wouldn’t be. “How can you believe in God knowing what you know? Doesn’t you being here mock the divine plan?”

  “No. Believe me, I’ve thought on it long and hard. I don’t know why I keep coming back, but it must be because God has some higher plan for me, a purpose he has chosen not to reveal to me yet.”

  “You really believe that? All of it?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Amaia pointedly stared at him.

  “I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I believe this is all part of God’s plan. I don’t know how you can’t believe.”

  “Simple. It’s not true. He’s as mythical as the monsters parents warn their children about to keep them out of the woods.” Amaia didn’t care that she was one such monster. Michael didn’t know. “I’ve seen no proof of his existence in all my time on Earth.”

  “I see it all around me. The fact that I’m here with you now is proof of his hand.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “How else do you explain my soul surviving intact? My soul has passed from body to body. I’m still the same person, the same Michael you knew. How else can that be if not for God’s hand?”

  “I don’t know. But when I don’t know something, I say so; I don’t make up stories.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to the idea. Faith has brought comfort and beauty into the lives of thousands of people. Knowing that God is in charge gives me hope. I’ve messed up so many things in this life and my previous ones that I take comfort in knowing that in the end, it’s all up to his will.”

  “The question of whether we end up together or not is up to him?”

  “His hand guides us, but he expects us to use our free will to make decisions. I pray for you every day.” Michael grabbed her hand, the warmth of his skin reinforcing the sincerity of his words.

  Amaia had never been in someone’s prayers before. It was a strange thought. She wasn’t sure she liked it. “Life is too short to believe in something as silly as a fairy story.”

  “It’s not just a story, Amaia. I don’t know why you don’t believe. Perhaps you’re too strong to need the solace, but not everyone is.”

  “I don’t understand, Michael. You weren’t this religious in your first life, or at least you never spoke about it to me.”

  “Going through these different lives has led me to believe that there must be a god. He is the only way I’m able to make sense of it.”

  “But doesn’t it seem silly to you? I would think it would be just the opposite. For me, it’s proof that there is no god. Where is his hand in this?”

  “It’s everywhere. There must be a purpose.”

  Amaia didn’t have an answer. What was she supposed to say? That this was all because she had killed him, that he was a curse on her? Of course, that would be admitting the existence of a supernatural force with reason and desire to curse her. Nothing made sense. What lesson was there for Michael to learn so he could advance beyond this life?

  “I believe that some things just are.”

  He seemed to consider that and then nodded. “Fair enough. I don’t care to change your mind. I’ve never wanted to change anything about you. I just love talking to you, hearing your thoughts. I bet you’re not so painfully honest with anyone else. You never were. That part of you has always only been for me. Now, what is it you want to talk about? The night we met? The time you turned up in hysterics outside my door after you had been with that pimply fellow, Lord Bradley I think it was? The time we ate in the Hampton Court gardens all by ourselves? Or how about the time we danced, and I told you how it was going to be with me?”

  Amaia sat in awe. These memories were clearly familiar to him. She held the same ones in her mind, but hers were obscured behind the veil of mortality. She wanted to hear them all. “Yes.”

  Michael laughed. “Very well. I still remember the moment I met you as if it had been last night. There I was, drinking, miserable, wondering how I was ever going to live up to my family’s expectations. Richard had always been the one who knew how to politick. He was the lord, not I. I just wanted to sail my ships, to earn my own way. I remember feeling guilty for worrying about such things when I had just lost my brother. Then you sat down across from me. You wore a pale blue and cream dress and a black choker with a little golden heart charm on it. You weren’t the first of your profession to approach me that night, but you were the only one I wanted. There was something in your eyes, in the way they seemed to understand me before I even opened my mouth. I knew in that moment that my life would never be the same.”

  As he spoke, Amaia watched the events unfold in her mind’s eye. “You lie. There’s no way you could have known.”

  Michael chuckled. “I did. You don’t meet the woman of your dreams and not know in that moment that everything is going to be different from then on. I found it charming how befuddled you were that I just wanted to talk. I never bought that you were a whore.”

  “I was.”

  “I know. But still, that wasn’t you. You were always much too charming and witty, not to mention intelligent and gracious to ever be a courtesan.”

  “Those are the qualities that made me good at my job.”

  “No, those were the things that made you the type of woman men sought after. They were willing to pay as much as they did because you shouldn’t have been on the market in the first place.”

  Michael was the only man who had ever spoken to her this way, as if there was a part of her that was separate from her profession, as if her line of work didn’t define her. It was easy to see how she had fallen for him. Listening to him speak, she felt herself slipping into the same feelings she had harbored as a mortal.

  “What do you remember about your other lives? How did you remember me?” Amaia couldn’t resist asking. Gazing into the mirror of his memories reflected a version of herself she’d never seen.

  “I thought that was off limits.” Michael’s tone was light.

  “No, my life is off limits.”

  A light grunt escaped Michael’s chest as he leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “I used to dream of you. When I was a child, I thought you were a fairy watching over me. I’d catch glimpses of your eyes when I was out playing. It was like that in all my lives. Even as I grew up, I dreamt of you. The first few lives, there weren’t any solid memories, but I always felt comforted and joyful when you were in my dreams, a content feeling that eluded me during my waking hours.” Michael propped his elbows on the back of the bench and stretched his legs out in front him, crossing them at the ankles. “Three lives ago, I swear I saw you. I was hunting and decided to go home. When I looked back, I know I locked eyes with you, but just as quickly, you were gone. How did you know to be there?”

  Amaia shook her head. “I told you, I’ll not answer any questions. I know it’s not fair.” She placed her hand on his arm, hoping it would take some of the hurt from her answer.

  “I don’t care about fair, Amaia. I care about you.” He smiled at her, and his face held no judgment, only acceptance and love. Amaia had to look away. “Two lives ago, when I was a nun, you came and spoke with me. I remember that. I don’t know why you decided to do it, but I’m glad. I didn’t know you then, only that you were familiar. I convinced myself you couldn’t be the same woman from my dreams. It was too absurd.”

  “Ironic, given that you were a nun. I suppose it must be hard to believe what’s right in front of your eyes when you’re so used to blind faith.” Amaia knew she was interjecting words designed to hurt him. Pushing him away when she wanted him close, making him not want her so she wouldn’t want him was an ingrained habit, one that stemmed from their mortal relationship.

  Michael ignored the rem
ark. “When I came into my next life and the memories of my time as a nun infiltrated my dreams, I knew you would come again.”

  “What was it like being a woman?” Amaia couldn’t imagine being a man.

  “It was fine at the time. I didn’t realize there was anything different until I remembered it in my next life. It was quite a shock to be a young man and know that I had lived as a woman. I’ve spent a lot of time since then thinking about you in light of my experience. It made me appreciate your need for control over your own life. In a way, I think I needed that time to help me better understand you. My love for you deepened when I gained a greater appreciation for the circumstances of your life. You do know that I was in love with you, right?”

  “I remember you claimed to be, but I don’t understand why.”

  “Why? Amaia, you are the most amazing woman I have met in five lifetimes. You understood me. When you looked at me, I knew you saw who I was. You didn’t assume anything. Talking to you that first night, I felt comfortable discussing my uncensored thoughts. You let me reveal myself to you, and when I did, I found nothing but understanding. It was a relief. I couldn’t make sense of my life at the time, but you made me feel as if everything was all right. Conversing with you was refreshing. Your mind works in remarkable ways. It was a privilege to be the man who saw the real you.”

  “How can you be so sure? It was my job.” Amaia remembered how comfortable he had made her. No other man had wanted to see her; they all wanted her to be their fantasy. She knew she hadn’t been playing him as she did her clients. There had been a mutual openness and with it, a mutual caring.

  Michael sat up and cupped her face, stroking her cheek with his work-worn thumb. “Because I know you. I’ve seen the show you put on for others, but that woman was never the one who entertained me. You loved me too, though you were reluctant to admit it. Do you remember how that felt?”

  “No. I know we fancied ourselves in love, but I can’t remember the precise feelings.”