Set In Stone

by Balmanno, Beth

  I sneaked a peek at Noel and wondered if it would have been easier to discover that he was the spirit of a dead person instead of an ancient god.

  Noel finally spoke. “So, are you going to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  Noel chuckled. “About the computer. The ’options’ you were looking at.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Valerie, it will be…easier if you tell me. There are things I’m forbidden to say.” He paused for a moment. “But if you find them out on your own, if you bring these ideas to me, then we can talk about them.”

  I debated for a long moment. If I was wrong, if there really was a chance that he was something or someone normal, he’d think I’d gone off the deep end. I wasn’t too far from thinking that myself. But if I was right…I didn’t know what kind of response I would get. What would be considered a typical reaction to exposing the true identity of a disguised deity?

  “I’m waiting,” Noel reminded me. He’d pulled into a parking space on Union Street, half a block from the galleries and waterfront. He turned off the car.

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy…”

  He reached out and took my hand, grasping it firmly in his. “No, I won’t.”

  He wasn’t leaving me much choice, especially with his blue eyes gazing into mine and his cool fingertips tracing circles on the back of my hand, sending shivers up my arm. I had no idea where to begin.

  “Start at the beginning,” he suggested and once again I wondered if he could read my mind.

  I took a deep breath and expelled it, trying to breathe out the nervousness and anxiety pent up inside of me.

  “OK. Remember when we went out to dinner? And I went to the restroom? A friend of mine was there…with another friend. I stopped and talked with them for a little bit…I’m not sure if you saw that or not.”

  He waited, his fingers still trailing lightly across my knuckles.

  I forged ahead. “Well, that friend—she’s not my friend but my friend’s friend—can see auras. Energy fields. Anyway, she mentioned something about your…about your aura. Yours and Leo’s.”

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  I tried to pull my hand away but he held it firmly. “She said that yours was…different.”

  “Different how?”

  I bit my lip. “Um…I don’t really get how to read auras but apparently yours is mostly white. And rainbow sparkles. She didn’t really know what that meant.” I didn’t elaborate on her theory.

  He nodded. “And how did this information lead you to studying Celtic mythology?”

  “Well,” I hedged. “We talked about some other stuff, too. I went to her house yesterday and her mom…her mom is a witch.”

  Something flickered across his face but he quickly composed himself.

  I continued. “She talked about stones and power symbols and stuff like that. And the…the stone has a Celtic cross inside of it. The stone I have. Anyway, she suggested there might be a reason for that. Some kind of connection…to Celtic mythology and…gods.” My voice cracked on the word.

  “So you looked it up…”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?” he prompted.

  I looked down at the black leather seat, away from his penetrating gaze. “And I looked up names. Of Celtic gods. There were pages of them. But none of them helped. I mean, none had the information I was looking for.”

  I continued. “And…and I found a page of names and I tried to focus on just one, to see if that might help…”

  “Did it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you find, Valerie?” he whispered.

  “I found a picture of you.” My voice was barely audible.

  He reached out his hand and tilted my head up so that our eyes met. “What name?”

  “What?”

  “What name did you look at? Focus on?”

  “Cernunnos.” The name sounded foreign on my tongue.

  He nodded again but said nothing.

  “Is that…” I didn’t know if I wanted to ask the question, if I was prepared for his answer. “Is that…you?”

  “No.”

  My eyes widened and a flood of emotions—amazement, embarrassment, relief—washed over me. I was wrong, I thought wildly. Completely wrong. I breathed a sigh of relief. Immediately, however, I began to wonder: if he wasn’t a Celtic god, what was he? A spirit? I didn’t know if that could explain the strange aura Fanchon saw…or his and Leo’s quest for the stone.

  “That’s not my name.” He took the keys out of the ignition and opened the car door. “But you’re close.”

  Chapter 31

  “Wait!” He’d just said I was wrong. “What do you mean I’m close? Are you saying…” I willed myself to say the words. “Are you saying you are…a god?”

  He made his way to my side of the car and opened my door, offering his hand to me. “Yes,” he said simply.

  “Wait.” I propped myself against the car and wilted into the door. “Wait…” I’d just gone from thinking all of my fantastic musings were wrong to suddenly having them confirmed. “Who are you?”

  He leaned against the car, right next to me, his shirt sleeve touching mine. “Remember what you said earlier, how there are so many? I can’t tell you who I am, Valerie…you have to find that information yourself.”

  He straightened and pulled me to him. “You’ll find the answer. And once you do, I can tell you everything. I will tell you everything. I promise.” He kissed the top of my hair. “Until then, I will keep you safe. As safe as I can.”

  I clung to him for a moment, my hands gripping his shoulders, my fingers grazing his silky black hair. I fought the urge to push him away just as I struggled to keep him close.

  He held me at arm’s length, a smile on his face. “I’m glad you finally know,” he said.

  “I’m not.” I felt weak and disoriented, as if I was viewing the events of my life as a spectator, not a participant. I didn’t feel altogether there, in the moment.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” he said. He took my hand and led me toward the gallery. “Especially in this day and age. So few people believe in magic and mythology. It’s quite sad, really. And yet we exist.”

  I said nothing.

  “You can ask me questions,” he said softly. “If you want to.”

  I wrenched my hand free. “What?” My anger surprised me. “You just said you couldn’t tell me anything! How am I supposed to ask you questions that you can’t answer?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he pointed out. “I said I couldn’t tell you my identity…and I can’t tell you why I’m here. Those are the things that must remain secret, unless you find them out. But --”

  “Why?” I demanded. “Whose rules are they? The head god or something?”

  “Mine and Leo’s—rules we agreed to at the start of this, when we discovered the stone had resurfaced.”

  “Resurfaced? So it’s been missing? Who does it belong to?”

  Noel hesitated for a moment. “The Goddess.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Which goddess? Or can you not give me that name, either?” It felt surreal, discussing ancient mythological gods as if they were living beings.

  “The Goddess. Mother Earth.”

  “Oh.” Was the planet a living, breathing goddess? Or was it figurative? Both options sounded preposterous but I swallowed my doubts and asked him anyway.

  “Earth as it exists is a manifestation of the goddess,” he explained. “Just as this…” he pointed to himself. “…this is a manifestation of me. But it isn’t me. Does that make sense?”

  Nothing made sense but I nodded.

  We’d reached the entrance to the Torpedo Factory and Noel opened the glass doors. We walked past a couple of boutiques before climbing the stairs to the second floor. I hadn’t visited in nearly a year but the art studios still looked the same; bright, airy rooms with full-length glass windows like storefronts. Several galleries were close
d; the few that were open had their respective artists working. I tried to absorb the moment, to appreciate the art surrounding me, but I couldn’t. All I could think about were gods and goddesses.

  My thoughts turned to Leo. “Speaking of your brother,” I began.

  “Were we?”

  “Before, when you mentioned the rules,” I reminded him. “Where is he? Why hasn’t he tried anything?”

  “He needed…a diversion.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Noel stopped in front of a jewelry studio and guided me inside. A white-bearded man worked with tiny glass beads, threading them carefully on to a thin wire, crimping with a small pliers as he went.

  Noel considered his words before he spoke. “Leo has many needs. Especially when he’s here. He left for the weekend. But he’ll be back.”

  My mood brightened at the news. I was glad I didn’t have to worry about him today, especially with all of the other things circling my mind.

  “Needs? Like what?”

  He stopped to admire a small case of gemstone jewelry. There were necklaces set with sapphires the color of Noel’s eyes, and delicate bracelets made of hammered gold.

  “Good food and wine. Music and beautiful girls.” Noel lowered his voice to a whisper. “Leo likes the good life. While he’s here he likes to spend as much time as he can delighting in what this world has to offer.”

  “Where does he go?”

  He shrugged. “Different places. He didn’t say. If I had to guess, I’d say somewhere in France. Probably Cannes. He loves the beach.”

  “There are beaches here.” It was the first thing that came to my mind. Not that I cared where he was. I was relieved that the Atlantic Ocean separated him from me. Maybe he would stay there, I thought, and leave me and the stone alone.

  “Yes, there are. But the women in France are…how do I say this? They are freer. More liberated, if you know what I mean.” Noel gave me a rueful smile. “Leo really enjoys women.”

  I blushed. “Oh.” I was suddenly even more grateful that he’d gone away.

  “I wouldn’t have let him do anything to you.” Again, it was as if he knew what I’d been thinking.

  “Can you read my mind or something? How do you always know what I’m thinking?” My sigh was filled with frustration. “I can barely deal with you standing here, much less having you worm your way into my head!”

  Noel looked stung. “I can’t read your mind and I don’t know what you’re thinking.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and cast his eyes down. “But, if I project myself into your shoes, I get a pretty good idea of how I’d feel if I were you. That’s what I’m basing my responses on.”

  “Oh.” I felt bad.

  “Look,” he said. “Do you think we could maybe talk about something else?” He ran his hands through his hair. “I know I said you could ask me questions but I think I’d rather not. Could we table this, the whole who I am, what I am? Forget the reason I’m here, forget about Leo and what he wants? I’d like to just be with you. Enjoy the moment, the art, your company. Could you pretend—for a little while, anyway—that I’m just a normal guy, someone you’ve chosen to spend your afternoon with? Not because you have to or because you have questions, but because you want to?”

  He wanted me to forget that he was not human, that he was really a Celtic god in all of his glorious perfection? I didn’t think anything could be more impossible than that. But his voice was so earnest and the look in his eyes so intense that I figured I could try.

  “Sure,” I mumbled, rather unconvincingly.

  He smiled at me and took my hand again, squeezing it for just a minute before letting me go. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 32

  “What kind of art do you like?” We’d climbed the stairs to the third level and were admiring oil landscapes in a studio window.

  “All of it,” Noel answered. “Paintings, sculpture, jewelry, photography, architecture. I’m not picky.”

  After browsing a few more studio fronts, we worked our way downstairs, back to street level. Most of the studios were darkened now, their doors closed.

  “You seem to be drawn to paintings—am I right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why is that?” Noel asked. We’d reached the doors, but instead of heading back to the car, he steered me left, toward the waterfront.

  “I think because they have the ability to transport me,” I finally said. “I feel as though I can crawl into the paintings I love, sort of like how I can get lost in a good book.”

  There was a crowd gathered just outside of the building, in the wide area between the Torpedo Factory and the docks. A shirtless young man, his long blond hair bound into a ponytail, was juggling, deftly throwing six-inch swords skyward and catching them with ease. We stopped to watch.

  Noel gestured to the juggler. “What about performance art? Do you feel the same way? About music and plays…or movies?”

  I wondered at that moment if he’d ever seen a movie. Now that we were pretending he was normal, I was bursting with questions. How often did he masquerade as a mortal? If he didn’t live on this earth, where did he live? How frequently did he visit? How old was he? How do you while away all of eternity? And with all of the modern world’s inventions, had he seen movies? How did he learn how to drive a car?

  “Valerie?”

  “Sorry.” I’d been so consumed by my silent questions that I hadn’t answered his. “Um…I do like performing arts…music and all that.”

  The juggler finished to a round of applause. Noel fished out a couple of bills from his wallet and dropped them into an empty paint bucket labeled with a sign that said Your Bills Pay My Bills.

  “What about you?” I decided to ask him one of my questions. “Do you like movies? Have you seen any?”

  He laughed, that soft laugh I found so enchanting. “A couple,” he teased. “I don’t live in a cave, Valerie.”

  “I know…” I blushed. “I just don’t get the whole…the whole god-thing. I mean, when you come…here.…”

  “I like to do normal things,” Noel said. “Go to movies, visit museums and restaurants, browse bookstores. Same as you.”

  But you’re not the same as me, I thought.

  “I know we’re not the same,” he said and I felt that frustration again, that sneaking suspicion that he had found a window into my mind. “But can we pretend? Remember?” He stared intently at me.

  “I’m sorry.” I’d forgotten.

  He breathed in, inhaling deeply. “I smell cinnamon. Donuts.” He looked around and my eyes followed. Down the walkway, toward the open, park-like area where people lounged on blankets and families played frisbee, there was a stand set up, a small shack of a building selling fresh mini-donuts. “Let’s get some.”

  Five minutes later, we were sitting on a bench at the river’s edge, sharing a paper bag brimming with donuts drenched in cinnamon sugar. Steam swirled into the air as I bit into the first one. It seared my tongue but I didn’t care. I wolfed it down.

  Noel took his time, savoring each small bite. He leaned back and closed his eyes as he chewed and I noticed for the first time how incredibly long and dark his eyelashes were.

  “Good donut?” I asked.

  His eyes opened and he gazed at me with a look of total satisfaction. The butterflies inside of me stirred.

  “Mmm hmm,” he murmured. “There are some things I adore, that I could never get enough of. I think these are one of them.”

  He took another one and I watched him, transfixed, as his lips closed over the tiny pastry and his tongue darted out to lick bits of cinnamon and sugar. He was a walking piece of art, a masterpiece come to life, and I could not take my eyes off of him.

  “You’re watching me.”

  I’d been so focused on his mouth that I hadn’t noticed where his eyes were…watching me watching him. I looked down, embarrassed.

  “Don’t,” he said. “I like it.”

  “You lik
e what?”

  “Knowing you find me nice to look at,” he whispered.

  I laughed. “How could I not? You’re perfect…physically perfect.”

  He didn’t dispute this. “I still like it.”

  He took another donut from the bag and held it out to me. I reached for it but he moved my hand away. He held it in front of my mouth, an offering I accepted. It was his turn to watch me, his eyes moving from my mouth to my eyes and then back again as I took a bite. It was strangely intimate, having someone feed me and for a moment I felt like our roles were reversed, as if I were the queen or goddess and he was my loyal subject, showering me with his offering.

  There was one piece left and Noel put this to my mouth. My lips touched his fingers as I took it from him. He watched as I chewed and swallowed, then he leaned closer until his mouth was only inches from mine.

  “You have some sugar here,” he whispered before his lips kissed my chin. “And here.” He moved to the corner of my mouth. “And here.” His cool tongue traced the other corner.

  I didn’t care who he was or what he was. I just wanted him to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and touched my lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss. His mouth covered mine as he shifted me towards him and hauled me on to his lap. His hands roved down my arms, gripping my waist before slowly sliding upward, inching up my ribcage.

  “My gods, you are sweet,” Noel breathed against my lips. His mouth moved to my neck and then back to my mouth and I sighed. I trailed my hands across his back, as if to assure myself that he was real, that he was holding me and kissing me.

  Then, without warning, he tore his mouth from mine and set me firmly down on the bench, as far from him as possible. Folding his arms across his chest, he studied me.

  I struggled to catch my breath and bring my racing heart under control. My lips felt numb; absently, I rubbed them together.