A gentle click of footsteps sounded from just outside the door and Chelle backed up a few steps in anticipation of whoever, or whatever, might be coming her way. In the next moment Victor was inside the room and a second later the door closed behind him all on its own. He was tall and sophisticated and spoke with the English accent of a proper gentleman. His frame, skeletal and weary, plodded forward as he stared at her from the sunken eyes of his angular face. Chelle didn’t feel good enough to stand in the same room with him. She knew he had brought her here, however, and so kept silent, waiting to see what exactly he was going to say.
He stepped toward her, backing her up against the mirror and closing the gap. Stern and focused he took a long look at her, as if he were studying her somehow to see if she’d changed from the last time he’d seen her. “You look like your mother,” he said, finally.
“Do I?”
“Don’t you? I see it. Surely you see it every time you look in the mirror.”
Chelle didn’t like admitting to that. She still carried a lot of resentment toward the woman. “I look like myself.”
“No, you look like your mother,” he said. He eased away from her and gestured to the chair once again. “I hope you’ll sit down and talk with me. You must be ever so curious as to what you are.” Curious didn’t begin to cover it. She had done a good job of keeping her secret, even from herself at times to the point of denial. But when she was honest with herself, especially in the quiet moments, she had burned to find out exactly who and what she was. She wanted answers, but something about this man made her uncomfortable. “Go on,” he said. “Nothing bad will happen. I promise.”
“You don’t want to hurt me do you?” When you were homeless you constantly ran into people who wanted to hurt you in one way or another. Asking outright didn’t stop them, but she’d fallen into the habit of doing it anyway.
“My dear, I can’t hurt you. You aren’t really here.” Gently he took her by her elbow and led her to the chair where she finally sat.
“I’m not? Where am I then? Have I died?”
“No,” he seemed amused at her question. “You haven’t died. You’re back in the house you’ve been staying in. You’re with Robert.”
“I don’t feel like I’m with Robert. How do you know about him anyway?”
“I know a great many things now that you’ve begun to use all of your gifts. What you did today opened up your senses. Not only did you repair the electrical impulses in the old woman’s brain, but you woke up certain pathways in your own.”
“Is that why I reacted the way I did?”
“Yes. Normally I’d come for you quite early on. I usually keep an eye on my chosen and get to them early. Ideally you would have learned to do the things you’re doing over time. Your physical body has gone into a kind of stasis to recover. I’m sure your human friends are quite confused. You’ll live though.”
Chelle’s head was spinning, her hands shaking. “Tell me,” she said. “Please…what am I?”
Victor took a deep breath and stood, extending his hand to hers. She took it and together they walked back to the globe where he stood, wistfully, looking at the moving orb. Then a moment later he let go of her hand and waved it in front of the surface.
The moving earth they had been looking at morphed and spun, turning from its bright blues and greens to dark angry reds and browns. “This is Methos. It’s our home, but it’s also our prison.”
Chelle stared at the strange new world in front of her. Although she didn’t visually recognize it her emotions stirred. A feeling of longing crept over her like a shadow and she fought the urge to physically reach out. “Why is it our prison?”
“There are two kinds of beings there. The first, very much like humans and the second, like us. At one time we were the healers and protectors, but through the millennia people who sought to control the government convinced the first group that we were bad. That we had evil intentions and that the only way they could be safe was to imprison us all. They cut off our wings…mutilated us. Wouldn’t let us procreate. We live long lifetimes but we don’t live forever. I’m almost two hundred years old myself.”
“Was I born there?”
“No, I created you here.”
“I don’t understand.”
Victor held out his hand and showed Chelle his wrist. Something protruded just below the skin for a moment and then came shooting out, like a steel tube with a very sharp, fine endpoint. “Human DNA is very similar to ours, but it’s hit and miss as to who will survive the creation. It’s as rare as one in half a million. I’m blessed to have you. You, and your sister.”
“Sister?”
“Yes. My sweet, Chelle. Please sit, and we’ll start from the beginning.”
Chelle took a seat, on the couch this time and Victor eased himself into the chair, closing his eyes and steadying himself. He seemed exhausted at the prospect of even telling the story, but resigned himself to do it anyway.
“I was born much like you were. If our world was this one you would have called me a human. In our world there are two peoples. The Masons and the Sentions. All of our kind are born as Masons but only the strongest are selected as infants to serve, to perpetuate our race. I was selected by the Sentions and taken into the home of my Sention parents. When I was sixteen, the changes began happening. The discord between our peoples. The Masons decided to no longer allow any of their children to be given to the Sentions and that the remaining Sentions would be captured and put in camps to wait out their lives. They reasoned that once we died out the ‘threat’ would be over.
“So, you’re a Sention.”
“We are Sentions. I escaped and barely made it to earth alive. I look human and can live among them but I need my own kind. We need to be physically together to be strong. We succumb to sickness after a time if we don’t. Lindsay and I keep each other going, but I am getting old and can’t provide her with all the strength she needs anymore, nor she I. Now that we’ve found you, I may get well again.”
“You’re not well?”
“Not entirely. My time grows short as it is, but with you around now, I can live another fifty years or so. So, you see, we need you. We need you to come to us and be with us here, physically.”
“Where are you?”
“In New York. You’ll know the way once you get here. When we’re in close proximity to each other, say one hundred miles, you won’t be able to help but find us. Our kind are drawn to each other for nourishment. You’ll need us soon too. You’re undernourished. That’s why it’s so painful when your wings assert themselves. We’ll need to get you here soon. We’re safe here, nobody knows about us.”
“Everyone knows about us now,” she said. “They saw my wings. People know what I can do.”
“In time the humans will convince themselves it was a hoax. Many are doing it now. All you have to do is disappear and the media will largely take care of it for you. It’s time for you to come to us.”
Something about the way he said it made Chelle feel confined. “For how long?”
“Forever.”
“No. I don’t want to stay forever. I want to be…”
“You want to be with Robert, is that it?”
Chelle strained to keep her voice steady and calm. Yes, she wanted to be with Robert. Wanted to be with him more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life. “Yes,” she admitted.
“I understand. That part of you that still clings to your humanity wants him, but Chelle, you’re not human. You look like them and act like them, but you’re not one of them. I know you can’t see it right now, but trust me, the day will come when your humanity will be more of a burden. I suspect you feel it now. That’s why you’ve kept to yourself all these years. You’ve found comfort in the solitude.”
“I’ve kept to myself because I was sure nobody wanted me. I’ve been afraid.”
“Afraid of people knowing that you’re different. Just how do you think they’ll react when they find out
just how different you are?”
“I don’t know.”
“Humans don’t do well with anything different. One needs only to study their history to see that.” Victor stood and extended his hand to her once again. “Come. Your sister is anxious to meet you.”
A cold chill swept over her body once again and she shuddered. “It won’t be long now before you’ll have to return. We have to hurry if you’re going to see her.” Victor grabbed her hand quite suddenly taking her by surprise and she pulled back, recoiling at his touch. This man wanted to take her with him, but she didn’t want to go. Every instinct she had was telling her to run.
“I want to go back,” she said. “I want to go back now.”
“Not yet.”
“Now!” she reiterated. “I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to see or hear anything else. I want to go back to where I came from. I don’t want to be here.” Chelle was so upset she didn’t even realize she was yelling.
The look on Victor’s face was one of deep sorrow and hurt. Her words had wounded him and right away she wanted to apologize. She’d been harsh, she knew it, but something unexplained made her feel like she had to be. He opened his mouth to say something but before Chelle could hear what it was she was pulled into the familiar blackness once again, her essence travelling back toward her physical body the same way it had come.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tucked into bed like she was with her skin pale and ashen, her eyes sunken and steady as the grave, Chelle looked dead. Robert had sat vigil at her side for the last three days along with Paul who continued to monitor her. Michael slipped in and out, bringing them food but Robert couldn’t manage to eat. Greg didn’t show his face at all.
Paul came in and sat down on the other side of the bed, as he’d done every hour for the last seventy two and placed his stethoscope to Chelle’s chest, listening for a good three minutes before placing the device back around his neck and sighing. “Everything is still the same. She’s not dead. Her heart is beating about once every sixty seconds. Her lungs aren’t functioning at all though.” He pulled out a pen light and lifted each of the lids in turn. “Nothing there either,” he said. “We’ll just have to continue to watch.”
Robert nodded and took Chelle’s cold, limp hand in his. Paul reached out and touched his shoulder. “Robert, you should get some sleep. I’ll sit with her. If anything changes I’ll come get you right away.”
He shook his head in the negative. “I’m going to be right here when she wakes up. She’s coming back to me. I know she is.”
Paul lowered his voice to a whisper, even though they were the only people in the room. “Robert, I think you should perhaps prepare yourself for the worst here. Her vitals are practically non-existent. We could take her to the lab and have Michael and Greg check for brain activity, but I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t see any.”
“And none of it would mean anything. That might make sense with one of us but not her, not Chelle. She’s different, you’ve seen it. This could be totally normal for her. I think if she was going to die she’d be dead by now.”
Paul backed off. “Ok. You’re right. Hey, I want her to be well just as much as you do. I can see how much you care for her.”
Robert hadn’t taken much time to analyse his feelings given everything that had happened, but he knew now what he felt for certain. “I love her, Paul. I know it makes no sense. I just know that it is.”
“Hey, if it makes sense to you that’s all that matters. And I like her a lot more than I liked Billie, to be quite honest.”
Robert had always assumed his entire family loved Billie. This was news to him. “You do?”
“Oh yeah. Did you know your employees call her, ‘Bitch Billie’?”
Despite how awful he felt, Robert couldn’t help but laugh a little. “As a matter of fact I didn’t, but it certainly fits.”
“I think the word brat is a more accurate description, but one way or another it doesn’t matter. I’m just relieved I won’t have to spend any Thanksgiving dinners with her, and so is Lorie. Nice girl, this one,” he said, gesturing toward Chelle. “I could get used to her.”
Paul stood and exited the room, the door clicking quietly shut behind him. Now he was alone and he reached out, stroking her hair, his fingers brushing up against her icy cheeks as he did. “You’re so cold,” he said, tucking the blanket up around her once again where Paul had removed it. He didn’t know if she could hear him, but after reading about how people in comas sometimes report having heard the voices of their loved ones calling them back he figured it couldn’t hurt to try. He’d sit and talk all day if he had to.
Lowering his mouth to her ear he whispered softly, “Come back, Chelle. Come back now. You’ve been gone long enough. I don’t know where you are or why you went but you’re needed here. I need you. I…love you, Chelle. Come back to me, please.”
His lips brushed her cheek as he turned his head and without even thinking about it he planted a small kiss on her frigid skin. She was so cold it felt like his lips were almost frostbitten after coming into contact with her. He drew the blankets in more tightly and wondered to himself if he should bring up the space heater from the basement. She was so cold. How could she be so cold and yet still be alive? Chelle was in there somewhere. Perhaps dormant, or perhaps suffering and trying to come back.
He wanted to hit something. He wanted to do something, to fix it somehow. But ultimately there was nothing he could do, and so he sat, helpless and waiting for her to come back.
No, she wouldn’t die. He refused to think about it. If he let that thought in there was a possibility it might happen and he wouldn’t have it. He’d sit there forever and will her to live if that was what he had to do. Taking her hand once again he squeezed as hard as he could, strengthening his resolve.
Five minutes later he thought he felt a slight twitch of her fingers. He wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or if it had been real. A moment later he got his answer. Her hand twitched again, and then all at once life was roaring back into her. Robert let go of her hand and ran to the bedroom door, throwing it open. “Paul!”
Paul ran back into the room just in time to see Chelle sit up and gasp for air like she’d been drowning. Color immediately caused her cheeks to flush and then she was coughing, her lungs struggling to work. “Take it easy,” Paul said as he sat down on the bed to examine her. He pulled out his stethoscope and listened to her heart and lungs as she continued to cough and sputter, gasping heavily as if she just couldn’t get enough oxygen.
When she was able to speak again the first thing she said was, “Robert.”
“I’m right here,” he said taking a seat on the bed.
Paul reached out to take her pulse but she rebuffed him. “I’m ok. I’m just fine. You don’t have to worry.”
“Don’t have to worry?” Paul said. “You’ve been passed out for three days with barely any heartbeat and were as cold as if you had died. I think that’s cause for your doctor to worry.”
“It’s ok, Paul.” Chelle smiled wide. Robert could see that she’d changed somehow, although he couldn’t say why or how. “I know what I am,” she proclaimed.
“You do?” Paul asked. “What are you?”
“I’m a Sentian.”
***
She couldn’t blame them for giving her a confused look. She was pretty confused by it herself until Victor had explained it. Paul, ever the pragmatist, asked, “Can you tell us what that is?”
“It’s a race of people from another planet.”
“So, you’re from another planet?”
“No, but the one who made me is. Look, Paul, there’ll be plenty of time to explain it. Would you mind if I talked to Robert alone?”
Paul nodded as he stood. “I look forward to hearing all about it. I’m sure Michael and Greg will too.”
The moment Paul shut the door Robert looked uncomfortable. She knew instinctively there were things he wanted to say to her but couldn
’t. She knew with certainty that he loved her, and that she loved him. Reaching out to touch his face she decided that words weren’t necessary. She wouldn’t tell Robert she loved him, and she didn’t need for him to tell her. She would show him, and she knew in turn he would show her.
Drawing his face closer to her she closed her eyes, bringing her lips to his and brushing them up against him softly. She felt the smile that crossed his face and he took his turn, pressing his lips firmly to hers. She responded in kind and soon they were locked in a slow, wonderful kiss that seemed to go on forever, in fact she only wished that it would.
She opened her eyes when it was over and pressed her forehead to his, both of them breathless and so close that one could hear the other’s heartbeat. “Robert, take your clothes off.”
He raised his eyebrows at her sudden forwardness. “Take my clothes off?”
“Yes. I want to see you. All of you. I want you to be mine.”
His pulse quickened under her thumb from where her hand was placed on his neck and she kissed him once again, sliding her hands down the front of his shirt, loosening the buttons. When each had been undone she pushed the shirt back off his shoulders and slid her hands down his chest and over his upper arms, touching him lightly, her hands wanting to know every detail of him. She got up on her knees as he stood and her hands found his belt buckle. Robert’s breath hitched in his throat as she undid it and slid his jeans down over his hips. Chelle’s one sexual experience had been as a teenager, with a boy. Looking at Robert she could see he was a proper man, one she was reducing to a quivering mass by simply undressing him.
As she met his eyes he gave her a shy sort of smile and brushed his fingers through her hair. He wanted to say something but she put her finger to her lips stopping him, then she kissed his beautiful stomach, teasing him. His head rolled back for a moment as he enjoyed the sensation of her mouth and she laughed a little seeing him under her control.
“Ok,” he whispered, breaking the silence in the room. “It’s your turn.”
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