So she stood for a moment, watching his naked form as he breathed. He had fallen to his hands and knees when he had come through to her living room, but in the moment after that he had crumpled forward. His weight rested on his right leg, which was curled under him at an awkward angle, and on his shoulder. It seemed he didn’t have the strength to even change his position. He was clearly in pain.
Though Katharine thought about helping him, she just stood and watched over him for any changes she might see. Besides, what could she possibly do to help him? He wasn’t mortal. She couldn’t tend his wounds, didn’t know what to tell him, and even just putting her arms around him would do nothing for him. No matter how much she wanted it to.
Still, she walked toward him. Blood was making small pools on her carpet where his cuts were oozing just fast enough to be dangerous.
But she reminded herself as she walked closer that though losing that much blood would be dangerous to a human man, no matter how much Allistair looked like a man, he was far from it.
Clearly exhausted, he breathed in deep and long and rolled over onto his back.
Vulnerable, he continued to look up at her, his hand resting on his chest as it heaved. For a moment, he looked like he was merely worn out at the end of a marathon. Katharine knew better and briefly considered grabbing one of her kitchen knives and pushing it through his ribs while he lay there.
“You wouldn’t.”
His voice was melodic and, though tired, confident in tone. Her body stiffened at the sound and for a moment she disbelieved her ears. “Wouldn’t what?”
“Hurt me.” The edges of his lips curled up in a half smile.
He could have guessed that, she told herself.
Breaking her thoughts, he spoke again, dispelling her notion that he couldn’t see into her thoughts. “You wouldn’t get one of your kitchen knives and skewer me.”
“Don’t you look in my head!” In the snap of anger she felt, she yelled it loud enough for all the neighbors to hear. Would Zachary hear it?
With great effort, Allistair shook his head back and forth. “Not trying to. You’re projecting it loud and clear.” He took another slow breath in and she noticed that his wounds already looked a little better, though he still sounded winded. “I’m not really in any shape right now to shut you out. Sorry about that.”
Turning her back on him, she went to her hall closet. She would have explained rather than just walking away, but clearly he was listening in on her every thought. When she returned, she dropped the soft couch throw on him.
His breath hissed in this time and she felt it down to her bones. She didn’t like that she felt these things for him. Nor did she like that it soothed her somewhat that his feelings were seeping into her, too. Still, there was nothing she could do about it; she was linked to him. And he was even more firmly linked to her.
There were a thousand questions swimming indistinctly in her mind, but she didn’t ask any of them. In a few more minutes he’d be even stronger. She’d thrown him the blanket mainly because he was lying naked on her floor, not because he’d needed it. Though she wrestled with whether she should help him, she wondered if there was anything she could do.
Just as the thought passed through her mind, he smiled again.
“Water.”
Even as she fetched it for him, she considered the possibility that she was aiding a demon, helping the very creature that–as soon as it was well again–could conceivably drag her to hell.
She filled the glass with cold water, wondering if he would like it that way and then questioning why he didn’t respond to that last thought. He seemed to be reading all the others so clearly.
As she handed it down to him, he worked up the energy to lift an arm and say, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
The next thought simply fell out of her mouth as soon as it passed through her head. “If I choose Zachary, will he really give me the Kingdom?”
“Yes.” He slowly pushed himself upright, being careful to not spill the water. For a moment Katharine found that disturbingly ironic given all the blood that he had already spilled onto her carpet. But she didn’t laugh as he struggled to sit up just enough to drink without sloshing it and pulled the blanket tighter around him as though he were cold. Not that he would feel that, would he?
But it was his answer that pushed through her clouded mind, still numb and reeling from the adrenaline overload of the spell and the circling demon.
Katharine had to reconsider everything Allistair said to her. Was he wounded because he had fought the demon for her? Or was he wounded because he was attacked? Was he exhausted because he’d been running circles around her?
Still she had to ask. “Why would you tell me something that would make me choose him? Then why would I choose you?”
He shook his head and slowly, painstakingly stretched before sitting all the way upright and taking another lingering drink from the glass. His long legs now had scabs and scars but were no longer bleeding.
She blinked. Of course he was getting better. It’s what they did. But still it was a shock to see that the blood that had started leaching through the blanket in small patches had stopped a while ago. His strength was returning and he smiled up at her, brown eyes laughing a little. “I’m sorry about your carpet.”
“Yeah, me too. Want to fix that for me?”
Though his expression still danced a little, his eyes looked sad and he shook his head. “Can’t. Have to save my strength for when it’s needed. Carpet is far less important than you.”
She didn’t trust the implications of his words or even his tone–though she wanted to.
After several deep breaths of her own, she decided to start with what had been bothering her most. She sat down directly in front of him, both of them cross-legged, her knees touching his through her pants and the blanket. The contact was more than she should have allowed, yet less than she wanted. Even knowing she shouldn’t want it didn’t change the way she wanted it. It was a pull deep inside her, moving her against her better judgment and taking her will along for the ride.
“If Zachary showed me a place where the chosen are well and cared for and live in peace, then what did you show me?”
It took a while before he answered and she worked to be patient and still her mind, to wait for this one thing without getting sidetracked as she so often did around him.
“There are two questions there. And the premise of the first part is a good bit wrong, but I can’t say more–”
“Why not! Why can’t you say more?” she yelled, leaning into his face, again likely disturbing all the neighbors, except maybe for the too-good-looking one just next door. Her hand lashed out, grabbed the glass from his hand, and smashed it against the wall just to have an outlet for her anger. Though she wanted to, she didn’t dare hit him.
Allistair waited her outburst out and didn’t really react at all. It was as though he had seen the storm coming from far away and had prepared for her explosion. “I cannot. I am forbidden from telling you all you wish to know. And so is he.”
She couldn’t let that be all. She couldn’t hang here in limbo, waiting for something to hold on to, waiting for an answer that made sense or something that she could prove to be true. Something to believe in.
Allistair seemed to understand that. So he gave her just a little bit more. “We lose if we go too far–”
“Lose?” Her heart fell through her, her hopes plummeting with it. “It’s my life, my everything. It’s all been turned upside down.” Tears began to track down her face, and she shook her head. “I’ve disappointed the only family I have left. And it’s all just a game to you?”
“No.” His hand reached out to her, then pulled back as she leaned away from him. “It’s not a game, but it is a system. This isn’t just about you. This is often how it’s done. One of them, one of us.”
“But not always this way?” Was there another path this could take? Maybe she could change things. Hope reared its he
ad again, though the tears still fell–she hadn’t been able to stop them.
“No, not always. Sometimes a person only sees one or the other, and then the choice is just yes or no. Not much of a choice at all when you think about the kind of influence we have. You get to choose.”
“I don’t want to.” She started to turn, to stand up and walk away from him. She pictured herself standing in the doorway, much as she had with Zachary last night. But before she could change position, his hands on her knees stopped her from going anywhere.
“What you want doesn’t change things. Even though I am sorry about that. You will have to make a choice. And it will have to be soon.”
Silently, she sat there for maybe a minute. He looked at her, and maybe through her, and while he could likely tell everything she was thinking, she couldn’t read a thing off of him. But his arms had healed.
There were no more scabs, only thin white lines showing where the torn flesh had been. None of the scars were jagged, though she didn’t know if that was due to his rapid healing or the fact that he had probably been cut by razor-sharp blades that would have left only clean cuts. In another minute or two he would be back to his beautiful, unblemished self. Eventually, he spoke again.
“You humans have a flawed idea of what’s beyond you.”
That was not surprising. Clearly, Allistair was right. In all her early years of Sunday school and church every week, no one had even hinted at this. She didn’t grace him with words–simply waited a bit longer.
“You have mixed up ideas of heaven and hell. There are two things confused in the names. The realm that I am from–”
He stopped himself. And Katharine sat, watching him and waiting.
He’d very nearly told her something of importance, something he shouldn’t. He’d almost slipped up. Katharine leaned forward, even more alert. Because she knew he could hear it, she spoke it. “What happens if you slip up?”
“I’ll die. And you’ll default to Zachary.”
She felt like she’d been slapped. “And if he slips up?”
“You’ll default to me.”
Fire raged through her. She was getting slammed from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. “So, if either of you messes up, I lose my choice? It’s really not in my hands at all?”
“It is.”
She realized his hands held hers, though she didn’t remember him grabbing them or holding them before this moment. Disgusted, she yanked her own grip out of his. She was being played more ways than she could count.
“Keep with it, Katharine. I think you’ll prevail in the end.”
“Why don’t you just tell me?” Her voice was the one she hadn’t heard from her own lips since she’d been a teenager, angry and petulant–only now it was laced with tears and fear.
“I can’t … I don’t know.” He looked her in the eyes again and went on with what he’d said earlier. “There are realms where angels live. And you could call that heaven. And there are realms where demons dwell, and you could say that’s hell. But it isn’t what you think. That heaven where the angels reside is merely a place to be. It isn’t a place of unending peace and clouds where all your loved ones meet you. It’s just a place. And hell is just a place too. It isn’t eternal punishment, or fire or ice. It’s just a place where demons happen to be. I’ve been to both.”
She looked at him, wondering where this was leading.
The blanket hung around his shoulders, revealing that the white lines had faded while she wasn’t paying attention. If she hadn’t known exactly where to look, she would never have seen these final remnants of the battle he had fought just a short while ago.
Now, all was still. Her phone didn’t ring. The air almost didn’t move. And he was just as he had always been, from the moment she had met him.
But she was so very different.
“The real heaven and hell are here, Katharine.”
“What?”
“They’re on earth.”
“Where?” She looked in his eyes again, wondering if she could discern his origins in them. But she couldn’t. They were just human eyes, even though she knew he was anything but.
“There isn’t a specific place. They are both in many places, sometimes the same place. It’s just here … part of the people. You can live in one and your neighbor in the other. Some people are caught in between. Some find heaven in the darkest times and others will be in hell no matter how the world is around them. Sometimes it’s yours to find or to make. And sometimes it finds you. But it isn’t a place you can go to. It isn’t a place that either Zachary or I can send you to.”
“Then what happens to me if I choose?”
“You’ll live out your life. Until you are called.”
Like Mary Wayne
The thought flitted across the outskirts of her thoughts, but was there nonetheless.
Still. She was still. Neither happy nor sad. Not afraid. She was simply still.
“And when I’m called?”
“You will go into service for whichever side you chose.” So she couldn’t choose wrong. It was as simple and as complex as that.
He smiled at her, a sad smile that one would give a child, and he looked beside and past her as he sometimes did.
Something about the way his eyes moved made her ask. “What?”
“You’ve been casting spells.”
“Can you just see them or something?”
“Kind of like that. Yes.” His hand reached out and brushed the air beside her head. “Protection spells. That’s smart.”
Katharine shook her head. “I don’t think it’s been working.” “Why is that? They look strong to me.” “I still have feelings for you.”
Once the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She shouldn’t have feelings for him. She should have been able to get rid of them once she knew what he was. Angel or demon, he’d never love her back. He couldn’t really want her. Not as she had wanted him. And she knew both creatures were simply toying with her. She was mouse to their cat. Yet she was still sucked in by him, still imagined leaning into him and curling up in his arms. Even though she knew it was very wrong. Even though another large part of her didn’t want to give in to anything at all. So, though she spoke the words, she didn’t do anything else.
While she could refuse to act on her urges, she was still haunted by them and disturbed by the fact that he could probably see right through her.
“So?” was his only response. At least he didn’t look like he was trying to take advantage of what she’d just blurted out.
“The spells seem to have blocked Zachary. I’m no longer pulled to him.” As she said it, she realized Zachary might be toying with her–he might have stopped playing with her emotions simply because he wanted her to feel that her little spell had accomplished something. Or was it as she had originally thought? Was Allistair just so much more powerful that the spell hadn’t stopped him at all?
What would Allistair’s response be? And could she trust it? She kept talking, peeling back layers and exposing her soul in an effort to gain some knowledge, anything that would help her out. “Why is that? Why don’t I still have feelings for him after the spells when I do still have them for you?”
“Because I didn’t put them there.”
• • •
Katharine came around, blinking in the bright light. From the amount of sunlight that streamed in through the open shades, it appeared it was midday, and she was lying on her living room floor–surrounded by bloodstains.
Sadly, there was nothing unusual about any of this.
The blood on the floor didn’t really bother her. And there was only a fleeting thought in her brain that it wasn’t even human blood. She didn’t bother to think about trying to scrub it out. Let the cops figure out what would get demon blood out of a thick wool carpet. She wasn’t up for that kind of challenge.
It didn’t even really disturb her that she found it necessary to check the display on her cell
phone to know the date, let alone figure out the time.
It was 11:00 a.m. on Saturday.
The last thing she remembered, she’d been talking to Allistair. They had been sitting cross-legged, face to face, right here on her living room floor. Then she had floated backward … and nothing. Not until now.
Wondering how much of it had really happened, she stood and walked around the condo, checking things out.
In the mirror, she could see she was wearing Friday’s clothes and that she’d clearly slept in them for a while. That, at least, was easy to fix.
Her hair and the faint outline of carpet pressed into her cheek told her she should shower first. That, too, was easily remedied.
She needed to see how much she could remember, and find out how much of it was real. Had she cast the spells? The table said she had. There was the cardboard spool that had held the binding ribbon, empty now and on its side. It looked like it had rolled away from her at one point. The candle was there, too. But the bound pictures–
Her hands patted at the back pockets of her jeans in a panicked frenzy. Though she felt better to find there were lumps in each pocket, she didn’t calm down until she had pulled them out and seen that she held them in her hands.
She needed to keep tabs on those. After the night in her pockets, the ribbon around the pictures was smushed flat, though luckily still intact. Katharine was surprised and relieved that they were still whole. Supposedly, just unwinding the ribbon broke the magic. Grabbing the pair and clutching them tight, she examined the table again, this time for signs of the demon.
There was almost nothing to tell of what had happened. The wood of the table and the backer board on the walls were smooth beneath her touch–there were no marks that gave any indication that the demon had passed through the furniture, the cabinets, the walls when he circled her the night before. But the tall pillar candle was burned about an inch deep, and the cavity the flame had left behind was slanted heavily to the right from where the flame had flickered hard and threatened to go out each time the demon passed by.
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