Mikayla tipped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. All thoughts of Alex vanished from her mind. She was staring at what looked like a carving that had long faded back into the rock as it battled with the rain and wind from the Mediterranean Sea.
Slowly, Mikayla stood from her spot on the blanket and walked to the stone, it was in the second circle, hidden behind the stones that made the circle she sat in. She was careful to keep her eyes on the stone, to not allow it out of her sight. Once she was in front of the stone, she knelt down and ran her hands carefully over the ancient granite, carefully feeling the engraving that by now was so familiar.
ÀÃFbyJ
The symbols were worn away, just a hint left in the old rock, but it was enough that Mikayla knew she had once again found something she didn’t understand, but knew she had to remember, to study, to treasure.
“Will!” Her voice rang through the air, loud, clear, and urgent. It was urgent enough that he jumped from his place in the grass where he had been reclining, watching her with interest, and significantly enjoying the view though curiously wondering if she had gone slightly mad.
He crouched down beside her and ran his hand over the stone where she guided it. Her hands were warm and welcoming; the stone was cool and rough. At first, he felt nothing but the stone, then, as if by magic, he felt the ancient lettering, the language of his forbearers coming through to his fingertips. Will’s eyes widened as recognition dawned. He had seen this pattern before. He knew these letters. Excitement bubbled within him making his deep eyes bright, but his voice and hands remained calm.
“Will, do you have any paper or anything with you? I can make a rubbing of this. I think it’s pretty important.” Mikayla tossed her hair over her shoulder and bent closer to the stone. “It seems like I have seen this before, but I don’t know where.”
Will stood from where he crouched and made his way to the Jeep. From the glove compartment, he withdrew a small notepad he usually used to keep track of the gas mileage and a pencil that had broken in half. He handed them to Mikayla who carefully placed the paper over the carving and began dragging the pencil over the paper like an excited three year old whose only goal was to make the largest crayon coloring in the world.
Will could hear her muttering to herself, but he couldn’t make out the words. He knew what the carving said. He had searched his entire life for that marker, for that message from the ancient kings of Amor. To think, it had been there in front of him his entire life, carved into one of the stones that were his best friends. He shook his head and pulled out his camera from the bag in the grass at his feet.
He attached the appropriate lens for the sunlight that was dipping slowly beneath the horizon, an orange ball of fire that seemed to fill the entire sky with flames. Although he had done so a million times before in his life, he stepped to the edge of the cliff, beyond the sacred stones, and snapped several photoes of his beloved home as the sun began to fall into the water, turning the sky from brilliant blue to a velvety purple.
Will sighed. He loved his home. He would never be able to deny his love for Amor. But he also knew he hated his home. It was a noose that threatened to strangle him. It required so much of him, yet it never returned his devotion. It was a bitter place, filled with false people who were constantly looking for a new way to strangle the life from him. He had escaped at the age of 14, but now, as he grew older, he knew there was no longer a chance for escape. His duty and his destiny had drawn him back, and now, here he would forever stay, until he was old and gray and beyond the chance of adventure.
Will smiled a grim smile and snapped one more picture of the Secluded City before the sun ceased to shine on its ramparts. Then, he turned to see the most magnificent sight he had ever beheld in his life.
Mikayla.
She was bent over the stone, still making her tracing of the letters, letters he could have translated and written down for her if he had wanted to, letters he knew by heart. Letters that were imprinted on his life.
The fading sun shot flame through her auburn hair that was tucked behind her ears. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as her quick and clever fingers made fast work of the tracings she was trying to complete before the day died on her. Whatever melancholiness had settled over her before was gone now, disappeared with the idea of a new task, a new puzzle to solve.
Will grinned and changed the filter on his camera. He squatted down behind one of the stouter stones and angled the shot around the stone. As she worked, he snapped her picture, capturing for eternity beauty that was undiscovered, unblemished, like nature itself. He knew she was speaking to him, but he was lost in the splendor he had discovered to pay any heed to what she was saying.
Mikayla glanced up finally from her diligent work only when Will failed to answer her question that she had asked three times. The obnoxious comment that had formed died on her lips as she gazed into the camera lens that was braced in his tan, strong hands. His hair blew around on the top of his head in the faint breeze. His finger pressed the shutter several times in rapid succession before he changed the angle of the camera and adjusted the speed. Again, he snapped several photos before Mikayla recovered her voice, though her throat was incredibly dry.
“What are you doing?”
Will lowered the camera slightly so he could look over it into her eyes. Fear and astonishment danced in her eyes. He smiled before raising the camera again to snap another photo. “I’m taking your picture.”
Will lowered the camera again and began to manually rewind the film. He knew Mikayla was watching him, not moving, unsure of herself and of him. “I am a photographer. It is what I do for a living.”
Mikayla straightened from where she had been squatting for what seemed an eternity by the cramping in her legs. She folded the pieces of paper and tucked them carefully into a pocket of her knaki shorts. “I know you are a photographer. Why were you taking my picture?” She didn’t look at him, but instead picked up her iced tea to sip, hoping to wet the throat that was so dry.
Will watched her walk across the grass as he loaded another roll of film into the camera. He smiled at her smooth, fluid movements. Even when she was nervous, she was still refined. He raised his voice so she could hear him clearly. “I take pictures of beautiful things.” When she turned, her hand at her throat, Will straightened from where he had been crouching. He focused the camera again and brought just her face into focus. Softly, he murmured, “You are beautiful.” The shutter clicked.
Mikayla’s eyes dropped from his face to the cup she held in her hand. A faint blush spread from her cheeks to her ears turning them bright pink in the fading red light from the sun. She didn’t move; she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Men had often told her she was beautiful, but no one had ever made her feel like she was beautiful, and at that moment, she felt it. A small smile tweaked at her lips, curving them slightly. Why was it that Will was capable of making her feel things that were new and confusing when she had gone 28 years without feeling them and had not missed them in any way. And now, now that she had felt these things, did she think she would miss them when she went away.
Will snapped several more pictures before lowering the camera. He had spent the last six years looking for the perfect subject to be in his camera lens. He had traveled the entire world looking for one thing that would make his heart beat faster when he focused it between the lines. Never had he found anything that was nearly as perfect as Mikayla was at that precise moment, her long hair curling carelessly around her. Her slender fingers wrapped protectively around the cup as if it were her salvation. Her slender shoulders beckoning from beneath the tank-top for a lover’s hands to stroke them in desire. Her blue eyes reflected an inner turmoil that matched his own, a need he was only beginning to recognize as her. But her smile was sweet, warm, pure with just a hint of mystery. A modern Mona Lisa. She fit inside the view finder of his camera. It seemed as if he had spent his entire life looking for her, the perfect subject.
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br /> Will swallowed with difficulty. He grabbed his bag from the ground near his feet and walked around Mikayla. He couldn’t look at her. He had to put space between them at that moment because even though he knew their paths were meant to intersect, he also knew that there wasn’t a future between them. There could never be a future between them. His life wouldn’t permit it.
Mikayla watched him walk towards the Jeep with his camera and bag in hand. A mixture of emotions flooded through her, all of which she was hard-pressed to describe. She wanted him to come back. She wanted him to be near, but she also wanted him to go away, with his devastatingly good looks and kind eyes. She wanted him to disappear and take these unknown feelings with him and leave her in peace. She wanted him.
Will reached into the Jeep and turned the ignition. The Jeep roared to life. The radio blasted from the speakers across the hilltop, telling the world about loves lost and loves found through the voice of Faith Hill. He paused, music echoing in the deepening eve. The yearning pulled at him and destroyed that voice that told him it was wrong.
Will crossed the grass to Mikayla and took her gently into his arms. He cupped her right hand in his left and wrapped his right arm around her slight waist. He pulled her close until their bodies brushed together and all he could smell was that pleasant scent of vanilla mixed with salt and fresh air. It inundated his senses. He leaned his head down so his breath was gentle against the curve of her neck.
Mikayla swallowed stiffly, allowing herself to be drawn in. She had promised herself she would not allow him to get close, but yet, in his arms, she felt as if she was walking on air. And then, he began to sing.
“In my dreams, I always see you soar above the sky. In my heart, there will always be a place for you for all my life. I’ll keep a part of you with me, and everywhere I am, there you’ll be.” His voice was soft, just a whisper, but it was perfect.
Mikayla felt her heart melt. She allowed herself to be drawn into him, into the moment, where the world ceased to turn and they were one, at least for that moment. It was the most romantic moment of her life. There had never been one like it before, nor, did she think there would be one after. For that moment, she allowed herself to be drawn into a fairytale of the handsome prince and happily ever after.
Will pulled back and stared into her eyes, seeing the wall crumble at his feet, seeing his own emotions reflected back as if in a mirror. As the closing strains of the song filled the deepening twilight, Will brushed his lips against Mikayla’s.
It was the faintest whisper of a kiss, barely there, but her heart stopped in her throat and her fingers twined in the ends of his hair along his neck. Their joined hands dropped down at their sides and tightened their grip. Warmth spread throughout her body. Her head was light and the only thing she was aware of was his nearness. His body gently brushing hers as they swayed in the evening breeze.
Then, with the final strain fading into George Thurgood’s “Old Time Rock’n’Roll”, the moment passed and the world was suddenly there again.
Will pulled away from Mikayla and walked her to the Jeep. No words were spoken, no sounds made. Her feet slowly settled back onto the earth, back into the world where she was merely a historian, and he was a passing fancy who would be gone soon. Back into a world where she was not wanted, nor was she beautiful. Back into a world where men like Will Chambers enjoyed a mindless distraction and then quickly became bored with the distraction.
Will helped her into the Jeep and then, took his time walking around the front of the vehicle. Time to give his racing heart a chance to slow, and time to allow his breath to even out. He had kissed women before but never before had he felt that intense of a reaction to any woman from a simple brush of lips against lips. He had to stop. He had to draw the line, but he didn’t want to draw the line.
As Will climbed into the Jeep, he looked at Mikayla sitting in the passenger seat, buckled in for the bouncy ride down the mountain. She stared at the stars above them, lost in thoughts of her own. He didn’t want to draw the line. He wanted to know her. He wanted, for the briefest moment, to be someone other than who he was.
As the Jeep revved to life, both lost themselves in secluded thoughts, secret from one another. Both were so lost in thoughts of their own, neither noticed the red glow raise into the darkness and briefly flare before fading into the trees. Neither noticed the slight crunch of dried leaves underfoot.
Will shifted from neutral into first gear and headed back down the mountain. Rock and roll echoed off of the trees as his headlights guided them through the tropical forest back to the house beneath the Secluded City. He pulled to a stop in front of the small house and waited for her to open the door and step inside before disappearing into the darkness.
Mikayla pushed open the door and then paused. She had already thanked him for a wonderful afternoon, not sure how to put what she was feeling into words. She hoped he understood at least half of what she was feeling. Mikayla turned and looked at him, sitting in his Jeep with his blond hair silver in the bright moonlight. She stepped to the edge of the porch.
“Will,” Will cocked his head to the side and studied her, but he said nothing. “Thank you for today; I needed this break.”
Then, she turned and headed inside. The door closed firmly, and the light above the door winked out leaving Will in darkness. He shifted into drive and drove away, into the darkness, away from the house beneath the Secluded City.
As Will’s Jeep disappeared into the darkness surrounding the Secluded City, its headlights making a path up the hill, another car, this one without its headlights moved up the street following the Jeep.
He had followed them all day. He had sat in the trees, hidden by the lush foliage as they had sat in the sun. He had seen the dance in the moonlight. He had seen the kiss. He had seen her discover the carving on the ancient stone. A carving he had spent years searching for, and he knew she would decipher it just as she was deciphering Malachi’s diary. And he knew there must be an end. Soon.
The dark car without its lights crept up the hill towards the Secluded City. The glow of his cigarette sparked through the night, tracing a line of dread into the night. Soon, the fire in the tower would be lit and the Wolf would await his servant’s arrival.
Chapter 9
Mikayla sipped her Cabernet, lost in her thoughts. The ocean breeze ruffled her long tresses and whipped them through the air. The scents of flowers, ocean breezes, and garlic filled the air. The outdoor café where she had chosen to eat everyday since her arrival was peaceful. It wasn’t frequented much by the tourists, at least not the tourists she had flown over with. It was peaceful, not harried, not like Washington where things were always moving and moving fast. Life moved at its own pace in Amor, a pace that hadn’t changed in 900 years.
At a table on the other side of the outdoor patio, a young couple nuzzled and whispered sweet nothings. He was dark, like someone who spent hours each day in the sun, working, not tanning. His hands were strong, capable, yet gentle as they stroked the lighter, smaller hand of the woman beside him. His dark hair was streaked with sun, gold in the dying light of the day. His dark eyes only saw the woman beside him. To him there was nothing else except her. His face was lined and weathered, but there was a youthfulness to his smile and his eyes.
The woman he snuggled close looked years younger than he but was probably within the same age range. She was delicate, but there was a strength in her that shone through like a guiding light, a beacon to draw him near. Her hair was the same shade as his but lacked the streaks of light. Instead, it shone like velvet, changing from black to deep purple with the changes of light and the movement of her head. Her almond shaped eyes lit with laughter as he brushed his lips against her cheek. Behind the laughter in her eyes was a hopefulness, a promise of the next day and the day after that. She gripped his hand on the table in her own, and they were linked, a link that wouldn’t be broken. It was a touching sight, even to a person jaded by love.
Mikayla glan
ced briefly around, looking for Will. He had surprised her the last few evenings by showing up just as her dinner was being served by Stephen, the waiter for the patio. The first night, she had been annoyed, wanting time to herself. The second night, she had at first been annoyed and then enjoyed his presence, his stories of life on Amor as he was growing up. The third night she had looked for him, not expecting him, and was pleasantly surprised when he arrived to join her for dinner. He had walked her home that night along the city streets singing traditional songs of Amor in Greek and then French. He had left her at her door and disappeared into the darkness that descended on the island once the sun went down.
Now, here she was, on the fourth night, hoping he would show up again and disappointed that Will wasn’t there to enjoy the beautiful sunset and cool breezes that promised heat and sun of the Mediterranean spring the next day. She frowned to herself at the thought that she wanted him to be there. Mikayla was an independent woman who didn’t need the companionship of a man or anyone. She looked again at the lovers across the patio and smiled. It was hard not to smile at them even when someone was as jaded about that thing called love as she.
It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in love, she mused, as she swirled the dark red liquid in her glass. It was that it had never been experienced, at least not like the story books said it should have been. Maybe she was a romantic hidden deep down, but she had never felt tingles and wild passion for a man. She had never found herself lost in thought about a man at odd moments in her day or incapable of concentrating on a task at hand. She had never dreamed of a man and what their next stolen moments would be like together. She had never received roses or been the recipient of those sweet nothings that the young man in the corner whispered to his fresh-faced lover who giggled and nuzzled closer.
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