by Lori Adams
“They’re coming for you!” Rama shouts at Michael as he and Dad wade through the wind to reach us. I’m seized with fear, with understanding. Our love was always forbidden. Michael has always said so.
The sky begins to turn as though it were attached to a merry-go-round. All the colors of the stars swirl and blur and elongate into streaks. Around and around, the sky picks up speed until it’s a magnificent rainbow circle. Viciously, it whirls and tilts on its axis, first one way and then the other. We are staring up in horrified wonder until the epicenter tightens into a black hole, and I feel Michael rising off the ground.
“No!” I clutch his hand but the force is too strong. His legs swing out, his body stretching and fighting to hang on. I race along the forest floor until he rises too high and our fingers are pulled apart. He sails over the treetops, rotating awkwardly as he falls upward into the swirling stars. I run down the path, following him until I break into the clearing at the mossy edge of the waterfall. Michael is sucked back and forth into the swirling abyss of colors that blur into a high mass over my head. He flails as though he is being dragged in and out of the abyss. A jagged bolt of lightning flashes in the center and then the hole closes up and everything stops.
Painfully still and quiet. I stand on the bank, panting through my tears. Dad and Rama hurry behind me and look up at the sky.
It’s as smooth as black velvet. Not a single star or planet remains. And then a sliver of light cuts it open from above and it explodes in turmoil again. Colors spill out like confetti. They are quickly whipped around as glittering streaks of constellations. The sky spins erratically as though it never stopped, the gale force winds coming hard again. We catch glimpses of Michael being tossed about.
“He’s fighting it!” I yell at Rama, but he grabs my shoulders, forcing me to look at him.
“No!” he shouts against the wind pushing at us like an invisible force. It sprays up water from the pool, making it rain. “He can’t fight it! The powers that be are too great, wahine! Michael knew that! And so did you!”
“No!” I shout back. I can’t believe that Michael won’t fight. He won’t let go that easily. Dad grabs my arm but I push them both away. I feel fire in my eyes. I feel my dreadlocks pulsating and my Chelsea Light throbbing in my palm. With all my strength, I call up to the chaos churning above me. “Michael! Please come back! Please don’t leave me!” I cry out until my throat is raw. Until the sky throws down bolts of lightning in every color imaginable. They stab the forest floor and burn like giant sparklers.
The sky begins to churn again, the topside of a hurricane, around and around, picking up speed. With each revolution, the colors grow paler and paler. Everything turns white but only for a moment; black smears into it like mixing paint in a can. It keeps rotating, gradually becoming gray.
The epicenter boils with dark gray clouds. A sudden brilliant flash ignites a crack of thunder and then Michael falls through the center. His limp body sails down, crashing into the pool at the base of the waterfall. Waves whoosh up around him as he disappears.
We are frozen in a moment of shock, and then I clutch my dress and drop into the water. It’s thigh high so I push through, calling to him, over and over. There is no sign of him. He fell only a few feet from the whitewater crashing down from the fall. I move as fast as I can, the weight of my dress slowing me down. I’m almost within reach when Michael bursts through the surface in a jarring crash of waves. He stands upright, and gasps to fill his lungs with air. He almost drowned! Oh my God, how could Michael drown?
“Michael!” I cry out as I lunge for him. We cling to each other, wet and terrified. “I thought I lost you,” I wail uncontrollably. “I was so afraid you were gone forever.”
“I thought I was,” he says. Leaning back, he cups my face and we stare wide-eyed at each other. Water streams down our faces. For a moment, we don’t know what to say or think. We need time to process.
Rama and Dad are splashing over, fully dressed. They slip on the mossy stones and hold each other up. “Sophia!” Dad cries. “For God’s sake, are you all right?”
“I wasn’t the one in danger,” I say, throwing my arms around Michael’s neck. I don’t want him out of my arms ever again.
“That was epic,” Rama says. “What happened?”
Michael looks up. The sky is black with a billion white stars blinking quietly as though they had nothing to do with the torment he went through. “I honestly don’t know. I felt the light force sucking me back home. I was on my way and then…” He frowns, considering.
“You’ve been stripped,” Rama states matter-of-factly. “The big kahuna has allowed your free will to prevail, but, dude, I’d say you’ve been stripped of everything you once were.”
The thought of Michael almost drowning hits me again. Is Michael human now? I search his face to gauge his reaction. His eyes have returned to the familiar pale blue and are so full of love that I feel a lump form in my throat. We stare for a solemn moment while Michael accepts what might have been taken from him. All that he has lost.
Rama shifts in the water. “So this is what falling in love is like?” he asks, and Michael chuckles.
“I didn’t fall in love. I was pushed.” He tips my chin up and whispers across my lips, “I’d like my wedding kiss now.”
With rivulets of water trickling down our faces, Michael and I stare into each other’s eyes and share a gentle kiss. The sparks flare immediately and we spring apart in surprise.
“But…that shouldn’t still happen,” I say like I know what I’m talking about. Michael shakes his head.
“No, it shouldn’t.” He thinks for a moment and then looks at his finger. He catches his breath and then grabs my hand. Our spiritual wedding bands are still there.
“Dude, that can’t be right,” Rama says. Dad wants to know what’s going on but no one has an answer. Then Rama’s face lights up with an idea.
“All right, bird man, check your plumage.”
I say, “What?” and Michael steps back. I don’t want to be more than two feet from him but he gestures for me to stay put. I force myself to stand still in the thigh-high water. Michael prepares himself, takes a deep breath, and then brings his arms down quickly. Two glorious white wings spread out behind him in a soft rustling sound. Dad and I gasp.
“Holy Haliakula,” Rama says. “You’re still intact.” We all take a moment to process the newest revelation.
“That means Michael is still an angel, right?” I ask. “You’re still a Halo? Nothing’s changed?”
“I think so,” Michael says quietly. He doesn’t know what to make of it all. Pulling at his shirt, he checks the Halo sigil that was tattooed on his chest during the ceremony. “Still there.”
“Tell me what happened when you hit the heights,” Rama says. “What you saw and felt.”
Michael’s eyes flick to Dad first and then fall to me. He seems reluctant to explain but knows he must. Taking my hands, he speaks to me as gently as I’ve ever heard.
“Sophia, honey, when my light was called home and I was lost to earth, it was your mother I felt moving within the turmoil. At first I thought I was mistaken. I thought my mind was emptying itself of all earthly memories. Then I realized that she wasn’t just in the turmoil but was guiding it. Transforming things and, literally, turning me around. I know it doesn’t make sense but it’s the only sensation I could identify. Somehow, your mother brought me back to you.”
I fall into Michael as tears of relief pour out of me. With a flutter of wind, his wings retract and he wraps his arms around me. We cling to each other with a renewed sense of wonder. It seems we have overcome the forbidden rules that kept us apart. We can finally be together without fear.
“No more secrets,” Michael whispers. “No more hiding our love. It’s safe now, babe. I don’t know who she is or how she did it, but we have your mother to thank.” I lift my mouth for a kiss. It’s a sweet spark this time, my spiritual energy matching Michael’s. Just as it di
d in the bar after I fought off Beefeater. It occurs to me that Michael and I have misunderstood the sparks in our kiss. Yes, it was still dangerous because I was a human and Michael was an angel. Now that I’m a spirit walker, we both have spiritual energy and the sparks are delicious. Not to mention a little addictive.
We kiss again, taking a moment to enjoy the same conclusion. Too soon, we pull apart because we know Dad and Rama are waiting. Michael asks Dad if he knows why my mom would have the power and authority to undo the spiritual laws that we have so blatantly broken.
Dad shakes his head. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can tell you. If you must know, save it for another day. Today is your wedding day.”
We look around as though just realizing we’re all standing, fully clothed, in a pool of water. Our smiles break into laughter. Michael wraps me in his arms and sloshes me around in a circle.
“Yes, it’s our wedding day and I haven’t danced with my wife.”
My laugh turns into a frowny face. “But we’re all wet.”
“So?” Michael teases. He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously and then gathers me up like we’re preparing to waltz. After a moment, the tinkling sound of a piano touches the air. It picks up rhythm and expands into a lovely instrumental: “Pachelbel Meets U2.” As the tempo escalates, Michael and I float straight up out of the water and come to rest on the surface. It feels firm yet soft, watery beneath my bare feet. Michael takes the lead and off we go, waltzing across the water, soaked to the bone and grinning like idiots. It’s the most amazing feeling, not only walking on water but dancing and twirling. I feel like every Disney princess rolled into one.
The fireflies return and light up the foliage that surrounds us. Michael and I reel over the pool, around Dad and Rama gawking at us. And then behind the waterfall, splashing right through the middle of it. Water cascades over us but we don’t care. We laugh and dance and love every moment of it.
Chapter 16
Dante
The stone door to the pretty pink bedroom opened with a scraping noise. Dante, who had been talking to Vaughn in the main chamber, went rigid at the sound. It had taken almost three hours and all of his patience not to barge in on Isatou and Sophia. Isatou’s potion was his last hope; if the memories buried within Sophia’s subconscious could not be summoned, Dante would be forced to give up. Tempering his anticipation, he held his breath and slowly turned.
Isatou and Ka walked quietly along the hallway, side by side and stone-faced. They came to a stop before Dante. Isatou moved off to join Vaughn, leaving Ka to face Dante alone.
He forced a tense smile. “I…hope it wasn’t too…unpleasant?” His question was soft with a pleading sort of quality. He had no idea what to expect. Sophia’s blank expression gave nothing away. When he glanced nervously at Isatou, Sophia rushed at him with sudden rage.
“Mi hai ucciso!!” She beat her fists against his chest. “You killed me! You killed me!” Dante threw his arms around her, holding her against him while she wailed. She fought and cursed and writhed in his arms. She accused him of murdering their love, of cheating them out of a happy life together.
He closed his eyes and hugged her fiercely, so overcome with relief and joy that he trembled. The sound of her voice in his native tongue was honey to his ears. “Lovaria! Mio dolce amore. It’s you! Finally, you are here!”
She broke into sobs against his chest. “You ruined us, Dante. You ruined us.”
“Hush, cara mia,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “It had to be done. It was the only way. And everything has been made right again. We are together now.” He held her until the sobbing subsided. Then, tipping her chin up, he brushed aside the hair clinging to her wet cheeks. It may have been Sophia’s lovely face peering up at him, but it was Lovaria in her eyes. He could sense the difference. There was tortured love swimming in the liquid blue-green eyes like he’d never seen before. Would there be forgiveness as well?
“How could you?” she choked, shaking her head in disbelief. Her eyes darted back and forth against his, desperate to find meaning in the tragedy of his actions from so long ago. In truth, it was a rhetorical question; there was nothing he could add to justify himself. “Dante, you committed suicide and tricked me into doing the same. You knew I would never have agreed.” Feeling the rush of betrayal all over again, Lovaria pushed out of his arms and stepped away to sort things out.
Dante reached for her but reconsidered. She was right, of course. He had acted without her consent in their former lives. He should have known she would need time to accept their fate now. It was an enormous undertaking, forgiving someone. So he let the silence grow while he watched her take in her surroundings for the first time. It was a surreal moment, so similar to when he’d first arrived with Sophia. But this was Lovaria, he told himself. His true beloved.
She turned a full circle and stopped when her eyes fell on Vaughn, who stood by in stunned silence. They eyed each other with equal curiosity in the prolonged stillness.
“So you really remember? I mean, knowing Dante back when and shit?” Vaughn chuckled with a measure of disbelief. “Damn, Sophia. I seriously didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Il mio nome è Lovaria Cappelletti di Verona!” she announced arrogantly.
Dante nearly burst into laughter, he was so happy. This was his Lovaria, spirited, defiant, confident. He knew better than to further incite her anger, so he calmed himself and spoke gently. “Lovaria, I assume you still retain the memories of your most recent life? The one of Sophia St. James?” He glanced at Isatou for verification. It had not occurred to him that Lovaria would replace one set of memories for another. He needed her to remember Sophia’s life, especially her training to become a spirit walker. When Isatou confirmed his questions, Dante let go a sigh of relief. “Then, you must remember Vaughn Raider, yes?”
Lovaria rearranged her thoughts to acknowledge the full spectrum of memories now open to her. She understood that the real Sophia remained on earth. She identified her soul within the twin Ka, and knew that the use of the doubling spell must not be revealed. She also recognized a secret from Ka’s memory that was kept from Dante: Sophia had already completed the Awakening. She was a spirit walker on the surface, and Ka never had the potential to become one in Hell. Her threat to destroy The Order was a bold-faced bluff.
It was a dangerous game that Ka had been playing, but Lovaria was more than willing to continue the charade. It was the only thing keeping her from The Order’s wrath. She had lain dormant for too long, and the rush of memories, however painful some had been, was overwhelmingly wonderful. She felt a delicious sense of life, not exactly flowing through her but burning through her. And now her desire to stay in the present was paramount; she would never allow herself to be forced into the subconscious of another’s life. Nothing was worth risking that.
Resolute, Lovaria broke into a smile and walked over, offering her hand. “Of course I remember Vaughn Raider. But I would like a formal introduction, if you don’t mind.”
They shook hands while Dante did the honors. Lovaria beamed and Vaughn braced himself for the punch line.
“Okay, this is freaky as shit.” He laughed. “Are you telling me that you think you’re some chick named Lovaria now?”
Lovaria frowned while translating his question, and then her face lit up. “Oh, yes. I am Signorina Cappelletti. And I am also the girl you know as Sophia St. James.”
“Right. So you won’t mind telling me the name of the private club Dante and I took Sophia to? This would have been on the surface.”
She hesitated, but only for a moment, before answering, “La Croix.”
“And you also remember living with Dante back in Italy?”
“Verona,” she clarified. “We were city-states then. It was not as it is today. Unified, as I understand.”
Vaughn looked from Lovaria to Dante and back again. He was impressed. “All right then, so you obviously remember his old man, Lord Giano? How he wouldn’t let you guys be to
gether?”
Lovaria stood very still. Her face flushed with humiliation. Her mood had visibly darkened and she turned abruptly to stroll around the room, knowing they would follow wherever she went.
“Of course I remember Signore Montecchi. He was an evil bastard. Hateful and controlling. But no more so than my own father, Signore Cappelletti. They were stubborn fools who pitted themselves against each other. Dante and I lived blocks apart but were forbidden to associate. We fell in love despite the constant political uproar that plagued the city-states. We cared nothing about the Holy Roman Emperor or the pope. We only wanted to be together.” She stopped as the piles of manuscripts strewn across Dante’s stone desk caught her eye.
“That’s right, Montecchi,” Vaughn echoed, his head swiveling around to Dante as he vaguely remembered hearing the name. “Signore Montecchi di Verona. That was your full name when we met centuries ago.” He took a moment to let things sink in. When he spoke again, his face was alight with an incredulous realization. “Your families were sworn enemies. You two couldn’t be together. You come from Verona and…well, I’ll be a son of a bitch. You know that sounds like—”
“Please,” Dante said dispassionately as he reached for Lovaria. “Do not mention it.”
“What?” Lovaria asked, moving away. She didn’t want to be held at the moment, as much as she had missed Dante. There was too much to learn now and the rush of memories made her head swim.
“Are you kidding?” Vaughn scoffed. “This guy named—”
“I said I do not want to hear that rabble,” Dante broke in, his eyes tracking Lovaria. She was still upset about the poisoned wine, but all he wanted to do was bring her into his arms and tell her how much he still loved her. There was so much they needed to discuss. “Please, leave us alone.” He gestured to Vaughn and Isatou. “You understand.”