by Karen Dales
Detective Donaldson sat straight, her dark face hardening into a stony mask. “At this time we cannot rule anyone out.”
“Then I think it is time we leave,” Dr. Bowen stood up and place a hand on his shoulder. The firmness surprised him but he did not look up, instead he held the detective’s gaze until she lowered her eyes.
Rising on unsteady legs, he turned to leave but halted.
“If there is anything else I can help with, Detective, please let me know,” he offered, turning to face the officer. “I want my sword back.” Compliance tended to alleviate suspicion and he hoped that would be the case here. He just wished he knew why he was a suspect.
“Thank you,” replied the detective with a nod. “If we need to contact you, where can we do so?”
The question caught him off guard and he floundered.
“He’ll be staying with my family and I,” announced Dr. Bowen. “I believe you have my address on record.”
Detective Donaldson made a note in the file and then stood. “Yes, thank you.” She walked around the table to the door, blocking the exit. “I appreciate you coming in today. I’m sure speaking with the police was the last on your priorities, but the information you provided was very helpful.”
She stepped back, revealing the exit and he walked through with Dr. Bowen behind him. Again the hum in the precinct diminished as he and Dr. Bowen walked to the front doors. The only benefit he found to being mortal was for the first time he could not hear the whispered comments that his presence always generated. He opened the door and stepped into the brightening day and he winced, thus eradicating any positive thoughts about being mortal.
Head pounding and eyes burning, he gratefully collapsed into the front passenger seat once Dr. Bowen opened the doors using her key fob. Despite the cramped space of her Honda he closed his eyes and rested his throbbing head in his hand. He felt a hand on his upper arm.
“Do you want me to take you back to the hospital?” Dr. Bowen’s concerned tones filled the cabin.
The implication snapped his head up, surprise seeping into his pained eyes. “No.” His voice came out in a rasp. “I just need to get out of the daylight.”
Dr. Bowen’s frown turned into a studious gaze that blossomed into realization. “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s why you always wore your sunglasses and why Paul worked at night.”
He did not know what she understood but did not rise to the bait. No longer Chosen he still had to be a creature of the night.
“We’ll stop at Timmy’s drive through on the way home.” She started the car, worry still creasing her brow.
Closing his eyes, listening to the nauseating throbbing that echoed in his skull, he knew one thing as Dr. Bowen slipped the car into traffic – he desperately needed Notus. He could not live like this.
Chapter XX
Elizabeth sat at the large oak desk that had been her grandfather’s and where she had fallen in love with the ancient world as she sat astride his knees. The half foot stone Sheila-na-gig still sat on the left corner of the desk. Grandfather Davies had given it to her the day she toddled in and stared slack jawed at the figurine. Over the years of living with the old man after the deaths of her parents, Elizabeth had learned not only the love of archaeology but the myths and legends of the Europeans which eventually led her to find spiritual fulfilment as one of the Hidden Children of the Goddess.
Elizabeth did not know whether her grandfather would have approved of her growth away from his atheist views, but her gut suspected he was pleased with the choices she had made, especially in following in his professional footsteps. The only thing she was sure of was that he would have scowled at all the redecoration she had done after inheriting the house in the second year of her Bachelor’s degree. The only room she left untouched by modern interior design was her grandfather’s sanctuary – the same room in which she now sat, having claimed the memory infused room as her own.
Laying down the iron spearhead into its foam case, Elizabeth pushed the magnifying lamp to the side and rubbed her strained eyes. She really ought to get her eyes checked, but she did not want to admit that she was getting older. Having a pair of reading glasses displayed prominently on her nose would be too much. It was bad enough that she had to break the oath to herself never to colour her hair. Who knew that divorcing her husband and best friend to another man and then losing him to AIDS while trying to raise a teenage daughter could take such a toll? Now she had taken in a strange young man as a favour to a colleague and friend, unable to comprehend why Paul abandoned him.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and rolled the leather armchair back from the desk, sighing at the memory of Paul’s distraught visage as he all but begged her to “take the boy.” Ever the softy for a hard luck case, Elizabeth acquiesced. It was when she saw him standing at the rain slicked hospital window that she second guessed her decision.
It was not often that she truly had to look up into anyone’s face. Rudy, her deceased ex-husband, had stood an inch shorter, and that was without heels. Now she was forced to tilt her head back to see the hurt and confusion in his exotic crimson gaze.
The flicker of fear that had sparked when she first saw him without the sunglasses still burned. Elizabeth chalked it up to her imagination at the notion his eyes glowed like embers, the anger of her holding his sword pointed at his chest being enough justification. Now the sword she had promised that would be safe was stolen, making her an unwitting oathbreaker. It was one of the main reasons she had agreed to Paul’s pleas.
Her gaze lifted to the stucco ceiling, its swirling pattern around the central hub of the small unlit crystal chandelier ran riot with shadows. It was not so much the decorative elegance that drew Elizabeth, but rather who was above in the guest bedroom. A frown pulled at her face. She could not believe the radical change in him. No longer had the strong self assured young man who exuded a cold air of aloofness, Elizabeth now saw him shaken and uncertain – vulnerable. He had attempted the imperious glamour during the police questioning but it became obvious how much of that mask was a ruse.
His reaction to the sunlight was odd but answered the real reason why the night was preferred by Paul. It took all of her strength to assist her new tenant from the car to the guest bed. A slight tinge of green had seeped into his ivory skin and his face was pinched in pain. An offer of painkillers was ignored yet he gratefully grasped the damp cloth she placed on his forehead before leaving him to rest in the blackened room.
Closing her eyes, Elizabeth stretched her senses to encompass the goings on in her home. Much Music entertained her daughter in the family room below the study, the heavy bass beats travelling through the air ducts. Elizabeth knew she should go downstairs to tell Vee to turn down the volume but the sound of water rushing upstairs drew her attention to her guest as he ran the shower.
An unbidden image popped into her mind, filling her with heat as she wondered at the paleness of his flesh and how it would feel.
“He’s half my age!” she admonished, eyes snapping wide at the attraction she felt. The rides on his motorcycle, clinging to his body, and now his vulnerability had only enhanced her desire.
“Stop it!” She slapped her forehead several times in an attempt to banish the feelings. Goddess, it’s been too long and too close to Beltain, she thought as she stood.
A quick glance at her wristwatch told her that it was time to make dinner, halting her approach to the door with the ritual musings of what to make. A new thought came to mind – except for seeing him grudgingly eat the crackers at the police station, she had never seen him eat. The tuna sandwich she had bought for him on the way home sat untouched in her refrigerator.
Placing her hand on the crystal doorknob Elizabeth turned it and opened the door inward only to nearly jump out of her skin. There, before her, stood her house guest, his hand poised to knock on the door. Slowly, he lowered his hand and she noticed the familiar sight of the braces on his wrists. Not for the first time she wondered why he
wore them.
Dressed in a black shirt with abalone buttons and black slacks he appeared stunning despite the pinched expression playing hide-and-seek beneath long wet white locks. Elizabeth noticed he appeared even paler and decided to apply a light hand.
“It’s good to see you up,” she said. She almost let her smile slip as he frowned and averted his glittering ruby eyes. “I hope you’re feeling better.” She was rewarded with a slight nod.
“I have to go out,” he said softly. His eyes refused to meet hers and he stepped back, allowing her to exit the study.
Closing the door behind her, Elizabeth was surprised at his announcement. “Are you sure?”
She watched his partially hidden face as he frowned. He appeared so dissimilar to the young man she thought she knew. The strength and surety was now replaced by a fragile veneer where uncertainty and, dare she say it, fear showed through. It was incongruous to her daughter’s description of the man that saved Vee. It was inconceivable that here stood the one who had miraculously eluded a hail of machine gun fire in the close confines of the elevator to manage a damaging blow on the escaping thief.
Walking towards the kitchen Elizabeth was aware of him following without answering. Elizabeth was still unsettled by his silences, but it was unusual for him not to answer a direct question.
Her mahogany and steel modern kitchen was thrown into brilliance from the antique styled ceiling fan as she flipped the switch on her way to the refrigerator. Navigating around the island counter that served as a preparation area, she opened the steel door of the freezer.
“I was just about to make dinner.” She fumbled through the bags and boxes in an effort to spark an idea of what to make. Grabbing a bag of frozen vegetables Elizabeth turned to see him standing by the island counter, his long graceful fingers pale against the caramel granite. He absently caressed the cold stone, his eyes watching the speckled pattern. She wondered at his involvement and, biting her lower lip, she recognized a shyness she had only seen in young inexperienced men.
Elizabeth walked over to him and placed the defrosting bag on the table. “Is something wrong?”
He grimaced and dipped his head lower, his hair spilling forward to mask his discomfort. “I appreciate your kindness and help.” He paused, searching for words until she thought he would not say any more.
She moved to grab the damp plastic bag but halted as he looked up, his crimson eyes arresting her. She never thought that eyes could really be that colour, let alone that beautiful.
“I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but I won’t be coming back.”
She sucked in her breath at the pronouncement and then realization blossomed. “You’re going to speak with Paul.”
He nodded and she smiled.
“That’s good.” She stepped closer. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but if you and Paul can patch things up, that would be wonderful.”
His thin white brows furrowed and she did not understand his consternation. Would it not be best for all concerned that the two of them patch their rift? “What is it?”
“My wallet, I can’t find it, and I hate to ask after all your generosity.”
It was clear to Elizabeth he was not one to ask for help and was deeply uncomfortable doing so. She knew well enough to be patient for him to continue.
“I have a taxi waiting and … well.” He grimaced sheepishly.
“No problem.” Elizabeth patted his arm before walking into the foyer to retrieve her black leather purse and matching wallet from within. Fumbling through the papers as she headed back to the kitchen, she held out several green bills.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the money. He carefully folded them and placed the bills into his trouser pocket. “I’ll pay you back.”
Elizabeth had no doubt that he would keep his word as she followed him to the front door. Quietly, she watched him slip into his shoes and long leather coat, a nagging feeling percolating up from her belly. Without another word he left her home.
She watched as he entered the orange car and she closed her front door to the sight of retreating tail lights. Hand resting on the lock, she removed her hand, leaving the door unlatched. The sensation in her gut formed into a certainty. She would not lock her door for she knew he would be back. Sadly shaking her head, Elizabeth turned back to the kitchen to make dinner for herself and her daughter.
Chapter XXI
He stood outside the condominium door, his heart hammering in his chest. He did not know what to expect but the sudden fear about what he was intending to do surrounded and encapsulated him. Regardless, he had no choice as he knocked on the locked door.
It had been disconcerting to find both his wallet and his keys missing from his belongings.
A faint reply bidding him entry floated through the wood. Spurred on by the inviting tone, he pushed the handle down and gave the door a shove inwards. Stepping into the condo he was surprised by the packing boxes stacked beside the door and a frown formed on his face as he stepped further in. There was no doubt Notus was preparing to leave. Closing his eyes he failed to connect with the Chosen, another damning piece of evidence to his mortality. It made the space increasingly uninviting.
“There’s a couple of smaller boxes–” Notus instructions abruptly ended as he came into the hall and saw the boy standing by the door. Pain flashed across the monk’s face before quickly retreating, leaving only blank coldness in its wake.
Unaccustomed to seeing the monk direct his stern stare at him, he spoke Notus’ name as he stepped closer to the Chosen.
“What are you doing here?” Notus took a step back.
His jaw dropped and his eyes widened at the accusatory tone.
“You’re supposed to be at Elizabeth’s.”
“I–I had to come.” Confusion filled him. This was not the welcoming he had expected. He had assumed that Dr. Bowen had picked him up from the hospital because Notus could not have done so during daylight hours.
Notus lowered his hazel eyes and brushed by as he walked into the living room. He stood for a moment by the sofa, his pale hand, stained with ink, resting on the leather before turning around. “There was no need for you to come.”
The proclamation and the matter-of-fact tone rocked him. He took a step towards the monk. “Of course I had to come,” he implored. “How could I not after what has happened?”
“Do not come any closer,” stated Notus as he retreated from the young man who had been his son for centuries.
He halted his approach, his gut twisting at the sudden distance between the two. “Notus?”
The Chosen shook his head, sadness filling his eyes.
He had to try again. “Paul, please,” he implored. “I can’t live like this.” The monk’s shoulders slumped as he pressed on. “This time it’s my Choice.”
Notus closed his eyes, grimacing as if in pain. “I prayed that you wouldn’t ask. That you would joyfully accept God’s grace that has lifted the curse from you and rejoice in being mortal once more, as I would have, as I have always prayed for.” He opened his eyes to penetrate stunned ruby eyes. “You have a chance to live a normal life, finally. You no longer need to be the Angel.”
Silence crashed down between them as the monk’s words and their meaning seeped in. When they impacted, the force thundered his heart in his ears, making his head swim and his legs weak. He hated to beg but there was nothing left to do but to do so. “Notus, please, you don’t know what you’re condemning me to.”
“But I do,” replied the monk, his whisper barely audible.
“No, you don’t,” he pressed. “Being Chosen freed me to live fully in the night. Now it’s all darkness.”
Notus shook his head. “You can live your life in the light.”
“No. I can’t.” He knew his voice was harsh. Fear twisted into anger, anger at Notus for denying him and anger at his differences that would always keep him in the dark. “That night when you Chose me, you saved me. Please
, Paul. I’m begging you.”
Tears welled in Notus’ eyes before he brushed them away. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do.”
“Then you know why I cannot.” Notus’ voice was soft and filled with remorse. “You were an accident. I never Chose you. It was a mistake I had been forced to live with, an oath broken to God. He has lifted your curse and forgiven me. I cannot – nay, will not – consciously break my oath never to Choose another. You of all people know this. Regardless of how I feel I cannot Choose you.”
The words felled him to his knees as his legs failed and nausea rose. Eyes burning with unshed tears he could not catch his breath. He should have known. He had known. But he believed Notus would take him back, that somehow Notus’ oath to his God would not encompass him.
He heard Notus’ quiet approach and a blossom of hope filled him as the monk laid his cold hand on his shoulder. Reaching out, he grasped Notus’ other hand and pressed his lips to cold flesh. It would be so easy to take the transformative substance from the monk, to take the Choice away from him, but he would not. It would be tantamount to rape and he had enough experience to know he could never do such a thing. The Choice had to be mutual. “Please,” he begged, tears falling.
“I’m sorry, Gwyn. I cannot.” Notus pulled his hands away. “I can only pray that through His grace you will finally receive the happiness you so richly deserve.”
He heard Notus walk towards to door. With each footfall the numbness of shock swept away the anxiety of being denied. It was only when he heard the click of the doorknob that he found the wherewithal to quietly ask, “What am I to do?”
“Live, Gwyn. Live life to the fullest. Live the life Jeanie would have wanted you to live had you been mortal.”
New tears welled in his eyes at the wound Notus wrenched open and the door clicked closed, leaving him alone in a place that was not his home. Rising on weak legs, he found his wallet and keys, minus the condo’s door keys, laying on one of the boxes next to the door. They had not been there when he came in and could only surmise that Notus placed them there when he left. Opening his wallet he found it full to near bursting with cash and credit cards. A note on yellow parchment stuck out from between the bills. With shaking hands he opened the note.