Embrace

by Jessica Shirvington

  He was observing me patiently. He didn’t smile or frown; he simply stood there, watching, feet resting lightly on the sand, hands by his sides.

  He cleared his throat again, focusing on my stance. I was still holding a defensive position: feet apart, knees bent, hands at the ready. It took effort but I slowly relaxed my pose, straightening my body, bringing my feet closer together and letting my hands hang at my sides. It was less obvious, but I knew I still had a good footing. If I had to move quickly, I still had a fighting chance.

  He just watched, his expression unmoving.

  Silence stretched and my already frantically beating heart found that it could, in fact, pound even faster. Was I supposed to say something? Frenzied thoughts collided in my head. Did Griffin tell me I was supposed to say something? Should I introduce myself? Should I run? The sun is high – Lincoln! How long have I been here? How long have I been gone?

  ‘May I assist?’ the stranger said. He didn’t have an accent so much as he carefully enunciated each word.

  ‘I…umm…I…what?’

  While I grappled for something to say, a mist, not unlike the one I had seen fall over Griffin and Malachi, seeped out of him and drifted slowly over to me, showering me in a glory of colours. As the tiny particles touched my skin, they disappeared.

  The stranger’s power, for I assumed that’s what it was, surrounded me and continued to grow. The logical part of my brain demanded, Run, run, run. Of course, I just stood, a poster child for all things dazed and confused. Then…calm hit me like a river, running through my body, extinguishing the anxiety that had taken over. My heartbeat quietened, my breathing slowed, my muscles loosened. I exhaled, basking in the instant relief.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said hesitantly. This wasn’t going to be the smoothest conversation of my life.

  ‘You have come to embrace?’

  I swallowed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You hold unique power within you. You are not like the others.’

  His eyes twinkled with curiosity. I didn’t respond.

  ‘You are not grateful for your gift?’

  The way he said it annoyed me. He may have calmed me, but it clearly wasn’t an endless supply. ‘I had plans for my life and they didn’t involve dealing with AWOL angels.’ I threw my hands in the air. ‘But here I am.’

  He stepped forward, still allowing for a polite distance. The sun was beating down unforgivingly and my skin blazed as he inspected me.

  ‘Perhaps that is why he chose you. My name is Uri. I am an Angel Elect – I believe you refer to me as an angel of light.’ He extended his hand in offer. I hesitated.

  ‘It is quite safe,’ he reassured me.

  I took his hand. Unlike my dirty calloused one, it was soft and tender. I could feel the senses buzzing around me, but it was as if they were muted.

  He released my hand and stepped back, flawlessly assuming his previous stance. Sand glided over his feet like ripples of water. ‘So, you have found a reason suitable for your choice.’

  ‘Did I ever really have a choice?’ I asked, thinking about how everything had kept circling back to this question, perhaps to this moment.

  ‘Of course. You chose how, why, when…even where to an extent.’

  ‘What about if? Did I get a say in if?’

  He bowed his head, as if slightly impressed with my question. ‘There is an element of your existence that was predetermined,’ he confessed. ‘It is not that you did not get a say, rather that the foundations of your very being denied you the ability to reject your destiny at any cost. It was simply a matter of the right question being laid before you so that you could, in turn, make the right choice.’

  ‘And if I hadn’t? If I’d let Lincoln die?’

  ‘I cannot tell you what is not possible.’ He tilted his head towards the sun, looking right into its glare, and his eyes stayed wide and unaffected.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It is beyond your comprehension. You should not try.’

  ‘Well, I want to know!’

  He turned back to me, showing mild interest at my snappy tone. It lasted about three seconds.

  ‘Your destiny was laid before you at the time of your birth. For that destiny to have changed, it would require a significant event that was not of your path and not of your own doing. You have only ever experienced one such event and though it has caused a slight change in the fabric of your true nature, it was prevented from causing irreparable damage.’

  His expression didn’t change or give away any more information. If anything, his eyes seemed less and less focused.

  ‘Someone interfered,’ I said, mimicking the words Lincoln had used when I first told him about the teacher that had crossed the school for no reason and saved me from the attack. Everything started making sense.

  ‘Who was it?’ I asked.

  ‘Your angel maker, who appears to be willing to break our laws for you.’ His lips twitched ever so slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was approval or disapproval.

  ‘Your essence lies in you like the seeds of a forest. Not one, but many.’

  Over the years, school had taught me the value of a blank face. The one that says, If it’s easier for you, I won’t ask, but in truth, I have no idea what you just said.

  ‘Is that good?’ I asked, wiping the beads of sweat trickling down the side of my face.

  ‘Your will is strong – so strong, in fact, it appears to have the power to overcome the will of others. Whether that is good or…other? That is up to you.’

  Brilliant. ‘Answers in riddle? A bit clichéd, don’t you think?’

  ‘Perhaps, but riddle is all we have. If comprehension lay at your feet, there would be no need to walk in search of it.’ He was silent for a time. He looked vacant, like he wasn’t really there. Then, as if someone had turned a light back on, he focused on me again.

  ‘You have given your heart to one and your flesh to another.’

  I blushed and looked down at my feet.

  ‘Let us hope the truth will release you,’ he said.

  ‘More cryptic stuff?’ I said defensively. I don’t know what I’d been expecting. I mean, I wasn’t naive enough to have thought I’d see halos and magic tricks, but I hadn’t counted on evasiveness either.

  He held his hand out again. ‘May I see the amulet?’

  A tingle of fear ran down my chest. ‘You had me bring it?’ Even as I asked, I knew the answer. I took the necklace out and placed it in his open palm. ‘It was my mother’s. Was she a Grigori?’

  ‘I will not answer that. However, I can tell you that this amulet was never hers and always yours. There is a reason this message rests on the back of it.’ He raised his eyebrows a fraction. ‘You may wish to consult some of your histories if you want to know more.’

  ‘Why don’t you just tell me?’ I asked, relaxing my stance further and putting a hand up to try to block the sun’s glare. I was now sure he had no intention of coming closer than was necessary. He actually appeared repelled by me. It was a good thing too. If it had come to a fight, I would have been stuffed.

  ‘My knowledge is not meant for you, only my guidance.’

  He didn’t speak for a time. Then he gave a small nod. ‘You have many virtues and you will need them all. Your essence will be embraced.’

  He made it all seem so simple, but I knew it was anything but.

  ‘So…how do we do this?’ Visions of being struck by lightning bolts came to mind.

  This time, his mouth actually curled into the smallest of smiles. ‘A journey. You will find your powers within you on your return. Use them carefully, for they are plenty, and know that even the greatest bringers of justice will only find salvation in surrender.’

  I showed him a blank face. He started to turn.

  ‘Wait!’ I yelled. ‘What rank does my angel maker come from?’

  Confusion tainted his perfect features. His hands twitched ever so slightly. ‘I…do not know.’

  He began to wal
k away.

  ‘Do I follow you?’ I called.

  ‘Not today. You have somewhere else to be. You seek water and must allow yourself to find it.’

  He was gone.

  I was alone, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by millions of tonnes of sand and dust. My only company was a searing thirst.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ‘One half of knowing what you want is knowing what you must give up before you get it.’

  Sidney Howard

  The obvious questions came to mind first. Where am I? How long have I been here? Will I die out here? And then the ones a little further back started to seep in. Will anyone truly miss me? Will I resolve things with Lincoln before one of us dies? Is this the angel of light’s doing or an angel of dark’s?

  The questions kept coming as I staggered through the never-ending desert. The sand was deep and soft and the scenery was unchanging. Even after walking for hours, I felt like I was still standing in the same spot.

  The questions that drifted into my mind simplified. Where did I leave the water bottle? Can anyone see my water bottle? Is that…blood?

  The last one snapped me out of my delirium enough to put a hand to my mouth and feel the wetness running from my nose, mingling with the grains of sand stuck to my face. Dehydration and fatigue were taking over. I let some of the blood trickle into my mouth to wet my tongue, so desperate was I to escape the dryness. My body retched in penalty. Maybe that’s what all of this was…punishment.

  I went to check my phone again, even though I knew there would be nothing on the screen, that the battery was dead. When I pulled my hand out of my pocket, a piece of paper floated to the ground. I bent to pick it up, and fell to my knees. I didn’t try to get back up.

  It was the poem my mother had left for me. I looked at it, trying to see the words through my blurred vision. I managed the first four lines.

  You must love no-thingness,

  You must flee something,

  You must remain alone

  And go to nobody.

  I sat, blinking my eyes, trying to keep a little moisture in them. I had turned towards this path to emptiness, nothingness; I had fled from myself and those who loved me; and I remained completely alone. I thought back to how I hadn’t been able to confide in Steph or Dad. Something clicked. I blinked again and refocused on the poem.

  You must be very active

  And free of all things.

  You must deliver the captives

  And force those who are free.

  If taken in the literal sense, I’d been active as all hell, delivering myself as a captive to my will. Maybe forcing those who are free meant the task of returning exiles for judgement and protecting free will. I tried to swallow but my mouth was too dry. Is this why my mother had left me the poem? Was it to help me find a way out? Please, please, please! Every hot breath I inhaled scorched my throat, roasting it from the inside out. I could hardly make out the next lines.

  You must comfort the sick

  And yet have nothing yourself

  Lincoln’s injuries and leaping to certain death pretty much covered that.

  You must drink the water of suffering

  And light the fire of Love with the wood of virtues

  Thus you live in the true desert.

  I understood enough to know that it didn’t matter what drink was on offer, I’d take it, and if it was suffering they were after, they had it. Right now, I didn’t know if I was in the true desert. And love and virtues seemed far away.

  Staggering back onto my feet, it was obvious the rest had not helped. I stumbled, tripping to my knees every few steps. I was coming to the end.

  I lifted my head and looked before me to the expanse of nothingness and resolved that no matter what my life had in store for me, I would rather that than this.

  From within the mirrors of sand emerged a lion, magnificent and wild. He padded lightly across the sand, leaving a small gust of wind in his wake. This was not a good sign. I was hallucinating.

  I watched in fascination as my lion quietly paced out a circle about ten metres wide. When he reached the place it had begun, he padded into its centre, stopped, and turned to face me. Golden fire roared in his glistening eyes as they remained fixed on mine. I wondered if I should be afraid but then remembered it was a hallucination. So I stood and stared back into the vivid eyes of my lion, for I knew he was my lion in every way, an extension of myself.

  The lion watched me for what seemed like forever, studying me with the kind of interest a lion does not normally show. I stared back, transfixed, and observed as his tail began to sway again, bringing with it a breeze that floated across my face.

  It was like a breeze of life. I closed my eyes and took a breath, trying to draw in every last bit. When I opened my eyes, a living wind surrounded the lion like a tornado, whirling around him, lifting the sand higher and higher until I could no longer see him. Unable to hold myself up, I dropped to my knees and slid down until I was lying on my back.

  A blanket of new dust covered the area, covered me. I thought of Lincoln, heard the faint da-dum da-dum da-dum of a straining heart, his heart. I clambered wearily back to my knees and tried but failed to stand. I remained kneeling as sand rained down on me.

  Finally, I forced my feet to work, to hold my weight. I pushed myself forward. One step, two steps. I walked right into the tornado to meet my lion and I knew then that my virtue was never letting weakness rule me. Sand whipped across my face. I screamed – not for the burning pain – but for the icy knowledge that my virtue was also my vice. I wouldn’t give up on him.

  It was calm in the centre – and the lion was nowhere in sight. I marvelled as I tried to comprehend what I was looking at. I was standing before a pool of water. I fell to my knees and reached for it, fearing that this, too, was a hallucination, a cruel mirage. Cool water claimed my hands and when I scooped them towards my mouth the water came with me. I would have cried in delight if I hadn’t been so busy drinking between coughs.

  The third time I put my hands into the water, it wrapped around my wrists and pulled me under like quicksand.

  There was nothing I could do but hold my breath as I plummeted into the pool and beyond. It seemed hasty to accept the inevitable demise. I suspected death would be the easier outcome, and therefore was nowhere in sight.

  Dozens of reflections surrounded me, manifestations of…me. From different times in my life, different moments. Some I remembered, some seemed like they came from other people’s memories. I could see myself in the eyes of others. I saw those others too – my mother, my father, Steph, Lincoln – and I saw people who had hurt me – the primary-school bully, the horrible ballet teacher, the girl squad from my old school that always had that knack of making me feel so inferior. And finally, the teacher who had attacked me. He appeared time after time, taunting me like obscured mirrors in a funhouse. The old fear I knew so well rushed back and I felt anger that he could intrude on my life at every point, even this.

  My lungs burned with the need for oxygen, my vision blurred, I couldn’t hold on much longer. I was spent. I closed my eyes. All movement stopped. The water stilled, and when I could no longer wait I inhaled…warm, damp…air.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘You remind me

  Define me

  Incline me.

  If you died

  I’d.’

  Lemn Sissay

  I landed on something hard. My eyes shot open while I continued to suck in more sharp burning breaths. Tiny droplets of water misted my face. I was half sitting, half lying back in a wooden slatted…deck chair?

  Dark, ill-omened night encircled me. I blinked to adjust to the dim light. Did I pass out? How did I get here?

  My surroundings slowly came into view. A stainless-steel table was to my right. On it, a glass of water. A light rain was falling. I was saturated. Had I imagined the water pool and was only wet because of the rain? Uncertainty enveloped me. I sat up, swinging my le
gs to the side. As I did, another chair came into view – and on it a man, instantly familiar.

  Anger sparked. ‘Is this some kind of game to you? How you get your kicks, playing with my life? Well, congratulations. I found your stupid water and almost died in the process!’ I screamed between coughs and splutters.

  I could see him smile through the darkness, his teeth startlingly white. My hands gripped the side of the chair and my stomach prickled. Uri had not smiled.

  ‘I see you have met my brother. He sent you looking for water, did he? Sounds like something he would do. Predictable.’ His upper lip twitched at one corner.

  I squinted into the dark. He looked exactly like Uri, but on closer examination there were differences. Uri had not shaved in what looked like days, the man sitting before me was clean-shaven. Uri was dressed in casual slacks and shirt; this man looked like he had just stepped out of a boardroom. His suit was black and perfectly tailored. He wore a crisp white shirt that glowed under the moonlight and was tightly held around the neck by a silver tie. I looked down; his patent black shoes reflected the night and the sand beneath them was perfectly still, like it was afraid to move. There was no doubt he looked identical to Uri, but this was not the same man – and we were still in the desert.

  ‘You’re the angel of dark,’ I whispered, wishing I was in a better physical state to defend myself. But even though I had managed to manoeuvre myself into a sitting position, I knew I would be hard-pressed to stand up, let alone fight…or run.

  ‘I prefer Angel Malign and, of course, there is always my name. I am Nox.’ He did not offer his hand as Uri had done. He was repelled by me, the same way Uri had been, but he was worse at hiding it. Or didn’t bother to try.

  I snuck a quick look over my shoulder at the glass of water on the table.

  ‘Thirsty?’ he asked offhandedly.

  I wanted to deny it, but I was still desperately parched.

  ‘Yes,’ I confessed.