by Bri Clark
“Why don’t you go and find out for yourself.” He glanced over at Shae and Collin, who were completely oblivious to anyone else but each other. “I’ll join you.”
We made our way across the tiny plane to the cockpit. Henry sat in the only other seat and pulled me onto his lap. I gasped, pleasantly surprised at who I found at the controls.
“Elias!” I squealed, hugging his neck. He laughed his deep raspy laugh and hugged me back.
“Ah, Marie. Your beauty has certainly been missed,” he greeted me.
“I don’t understand. How do you know how to fly? You’re a shopkeeper.” Elias and Henry shared a toothy grin.
“Shall I explain or do you want to?” Henry asked.
“You tell it best. What all will you tell her?” Elias asked, becoming serious.
“What do you think?” Henry countered.
“You know the answer to that. I’ve wanted to tell her everything since the beginning. You know I’m not exactly objective. But I think there’s no way around it now, judging by the look on her face.” he chuckled.
Henry began to explain. “Elias and I are old friends, allies. He’s the closest I have to a family. Well, before you that is,” he corrected himself, making my heart skip a beat.
I leaned back into the crook of his elbow, watching him intently as I listened.
“I met Elias right after I came to be with Abram. Elias was one of the scientists working on Glazier. A truly brilliant man.”
Elias huffed.
Henry continued unperturbed. “We became close as we were forced to begin working together on a project.”
I could sense Elias’s concern as Henry continued. “You do realize that she can do exactly what I can do. Like right now she can sense your uneasiness,” he reminded him.
Elias glanced at me then back out the windows.
“Anyhow, over time we got close,” Henry went on. “Elias isn’t only a scientist. He is a man of many talents you could say. He eventually left Abram and went in a different direction with his life.”
“You mean Abram just let you leave?” I asked excitedly.
“Not exactly, Love.” Henry answered.
“Well what happened then?” I pushed.
They shared a glance.
Elias was the one to answer. “Henry killed me.”
I couldn’t speak, but I knew my face communicated everything.
“Abram thinks I’m dead. Henry helped to fake my death,” he clarified.
“If he thinks you’re dead, how can you still be so close to Henry and own a café so close to Abram’s base?” I questioned.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Elias commented to Henry as if I wasn’t there. I scowled at them.
“I’m sorry, Marie. I’m still much a scientist,” he explained.
“Abram hasn’t seen me in several years. I’ve changed a lot in that time. Abram doesn’t venture out to the little towns near the base. But he does do research in the area that surrounds them. Its just one of mine and Henry’s talents to be inconspicuous,” he answered.
“But why? Why even risk it?” His smile faded and his eyes became thoughtful as they moved to Henry. He scratched his scruffy beard before he answered.
“Henry is like the son I never had. Where he goes, I go,” he stated simply, as if it was common knowledge.
My eyes darted back and forth between the two of them who as they looked in opposite directions. I could sense the shared sincerity from both of them but could also see how hard it was for them to acknowledge openly. I smiled to myself and cuddled into Henry, yawned once, and then I slept.
EPILOGUE
As I drifted off to sleep, I knew what awaited me. I welcomed it, yet dreaded it at the same time. It was quite possibly the happiest day of my life, but this day had haunted me for years. Always in my dreams and nightmares never far from my thoughts, he was quite possibly the most exquisite creature I had ever seen. His hair a pale blonde, his complexion was creamy smooth and ghostly white. His eyes were the most distinguishing feature. They were dark cobalt pools of pure beauty. Those eyes I would always remember.
That’s how the dream started, remembering him in perfect detail then filling in painful memories as well. I had him with me for the briefest of time. It was my own fault. But it never eased the pain thinking this. It only made it worse. He was there in my arms in one minute, and then in the next, he was gone but always with me.
About the Author
Bri Clark is a real example of redemption and renewal. Growing penniless in the South, Bri learned street smarts while caring for her brother in a broken home. She watched her mother work several jobs to care for their small family.
Once her brother could fend for himself, Bri moved on to a series of bad choices including leaving school and living on her own. Rebelliousness was a strong understatement to describe those formative years. As a teenager, her wakeup call came from a fight with brass knuckles and a judge that gave her a choice of shaping up or spending time in jail. She took that opportunity and found a way to moved up from the streets.
She ended up co-owning an extremely successful construction business. She lived the high life until the real estate crash when she lost everything. She moved west and found herself living with her husband and 4 kids in a 900 square foot apartment. She now fills her time, writing, blogging, leading a group of frugal shoppers and sharing her southern culture.
Her unique background gives her writing a raw sensibility. She understands what it takes to overcome life’s obstacles. She often tells friends, “I can do poor. I’m good at poor. It’s prosperity that I’m not used to.” Bri and her husband Chris live in Boise. Bri is known as the Belle of Boise for her true southern accent, bold demeanor and hospitable nature.
Also from Bri Clark:
Lucien heard the intake of her breath, and then the soft pads of her steps approach him. He’d not wanted to ask for help, but desperately needed it. The wound in his arm shifted between extreme pain to numbness. Both were equally bad and drained his energy. He knew exactly where she had hid. If the pain weren’t so bad, he would’ve smiled. He was impressed with her stealth.
Attempting a deep breath, he looked up to see what quality of wench lived among these woods. She would have to be single—most likely homely at best. No husband would live here, much less allow his wife to wander these woods alone. The female would become enchanted with him. Mortal women always had, and it ended with their broken hearts—which is why he avoided mortals entirely. An eternal, especially a clan leader, could not connect themselves to mortals. To ensure the continuation of the species of purebloods, it was highly suggested eternals only procreate with eternal. This fact reminded him of Alastair’s betrayal, adding to his pain.
He reluctantly raised his eyes to inspect her. His breath caught. Thick, raven dark locks framed an ivory face with flame red lips while empathetic emerald eyes surveyed his condition. Wearing a white peasant’s dress, she appeared ethereal moving toward him through the mist. His breath came out in a rush, and his pulse seemed to scream within his skull. Without a word, she positioned herself under his bad shoulder and bore his weight easily. He was astonished a body so small could hold him up. Silently, she guided him along. He asked her no questions, putting all his energy into moving. The pain was good, though. It meant the liquid silver hadn’t been released to encase him in a frozen prison.
The scent of plants he hadn’t encountered in years quickly assaulted his nose. Then the source came into view—a small cottage surrounded by herbs. That’s when it all came into perspective. The woman was a witch, and one of the ancient arts. He stiffened with the realization. She looked up at him with luminous green eyes framed by thick lashes that held nothing but concern. He considered he might be wrong. His internal alarm had not sounded. Nevertheless, he’d seen ghastly things done by witches and their herbs, especially the three prominent species framing her stoop. The pain of the silver arrowhead imbedded in his now stiffened muscles scre
amed in protest, and all his previous thoughts became a blur.
Astraea Press
Where Fiction Meets Virtue
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