by Azzurra Nox
“Hello?”
“Hey Lena,”
“Hi Jonny.”
“I wanted to check in on you. To see if you’re doing okay. You know, that sort of thing.”
Lena settled on her bed. Ever since Prom night, Jon had reverted his attentions back to her. Or at least it felt that way seeing he was ever present during the day. Every morning he’d wait by her locker and at the end of each day he’d offer to give her a ride home or to the dance studio. The two hadn’t broached the topic of what had happened that night as though it were taboo.
“I was thinking about going to see Dior,” he told her.
“She’d like that,” she said, then quickly changed the topic, “Did you study for your Algebra final yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Me neither.”
“Lena?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry about the Michael thing.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
“I have to go. I’ve still got homework to do,” she lied.
“Alright,” he sounded disappointed by her urgency to cut the conversation short.
“See you in school tomorrow, bye,” she quickly pushed the red phone button that terminated the call and lay back on her bed.
Michael had meant so much to her these months. She almost convinced herself that she was in love. Now she wasn’t so sure anymore. Resentment harbored in her heart. He had been the one to take her mother away, even if he had insisted that he couldn’t have stopped the driver. She closed her eyes trying to escape the tears, but she felt them burn her eyes. Her body felt exhausted from all those hours of ballet practice, and her head throbbed from all the thoughts that ravaged her psyche. Before she knew it, she drifted off into a restless sleep.
When she awoke it was in the middle of the night. Lena knew this because there was a stillness all around her. Sitting up, she noticed that the clock read half past three. Damn! she thought. She had fallen asleep without getting any studying done for the algebra final. Her stomach knotted in dread thinking about how in a couple of hours she would have to start getting ready for school, and face the feared final. A strange sound caught her attention.
The sound of random objects falling off of shelves came from down the hall. A little frightened, Lena untied the en pointe shoes she had fallen asleep in, before she slowly made her way out of her room and approached the hall. There was a vibrant light, and she had to close her eyes a little because the luminance was bothering her.
She recognized his voice the second he spoke to her.
“I couldn’t leave without setting things straight with you.”
“Why did you lie to me, Michael?”
He stood there in the hall, with his wings in full view. His bare torso was muscular, and his shoulder-length chestnut hair caressed his broad shoulders.
“I didn’t lie to you, Lena. But how could I have told you that I too, am a death angel? You never would’ve understood.”
She was torn between wanting to run up to him and embrace him and wishing that she could punch him hard in the gut. His emerald eyes were both apologetic and defying. Whenever he was in his true form there was something almost menacing about him.
“You should’ve told me that you took her away from me.”
“I couldn’t. Not after I fell in love. I was scared that you would’ve hated me like you do now.”
“I miss her.”
“I know you do. But you mustn’t worry. Like I said, I took her before she could be in limbo. She’s in a better place now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I need her here! Right now. It doesn’t console me to know that she’s in ‘some better place’, what kind of rubbish is that?”
“You can’t understand the reasoning of the infinite ones. And I can’t explain it. Mortals and immortals can’t be on the same wavelength.”
“Oh, is that so Mr. Haughty,” there was an inflection in her tone that indicated a daring attitude.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant it the way I said it. That you and I, we’re different.”
“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out, Einstein.”
There was a deadly silence between the two of them, apart from the shuffling his wings made. It seemed like each individual feather fluttered. She felt the slight breeze hit her forehead making some of her loose wisps of hair fly over her face.
“It looks like I can’t make amends with you,” he turned to leave and she felt an odd pull at her heart and suddenly wanted to deter him from departing. She rushed to him, and threw her arms around his waist, placing her cheek against his soft wings.
“Wait! Don’t leave me too. I can’t bear to lose someone else that I love. Please,” she begged, tears wetting his feathers.
“Lena, this is difficult for me. I love you, and I shouldn’t be feeling this. I shouldn’t be feeling any of this,” he slowly turned around to gather her in his arms, “You make it impossible for me to refrain myself when it comes to you.”
“I wish you wouldn’t refrain.”
“You know I should focus on my mission.”
“Isn’t it over?”
“It’s not over. And Adriel’s still alive.”
Lifting her up, he cradled her in his arms, as he began to walk, “Which room is yours?”
“Over there,” she indicated to the room at the end of the hallway. She rested her head against his shoulder, wishing that she could stay close to him like this all night. “Don’t leave me tonight. Stay with me, please.”
“You know I can’t say no to you.”
“I just want you to hold me. I don’t want to feel alone.”
“You’re never alone, Lena. I’m always there with you, even when you can’t see me.”
“That sounds a little stalkerish.”
“That’s what you get for fancying an immortal,” he teased her, opening the door of her room, stepping into it. She watched him look over her feminine furniture and noticing her algebra notes spread out on her desk.
“I was supposed to study, but I fell asleep.”
“Wearing that?” he questioned and she realized that she was still in her leotard.
“Um..well, I kind of crashed out, don’t judge.”
Michael loosened her hair from her bun, her long blonde hair tumbled down. He set her on the bed, she pushed off the notebooks and school books she had to the floor. They fell with a startled thump and for a moment her heart stopped thinking that maybe her dad could’ve heard the sound.
“I love you. I may not get everything that you are, but I love you,” she whispered as he wrapped his strong arms around her, lying down beside her.
“Lena, you make me question my whole existence,” he kissed her soon after. It was passionate and wet, leaving her breathless when he ended. His forehead pressed against hers, as he whispered softly, “I’ve never felt this way before. I never knew I was capable of this feeling until I met you. I’ve only delivered mortals from the pain of living and conquered evil. But I never knew what this was, this love that humans seemed so fond of.”
“Shut up and don’t stop kissing me,” she told him, bringing her lips to his own, his wings raised up before coming down to encircle the both of them. The feathered embrace was soft yet secure. Every time his lips touched her, she was overcome with images of a powerful light, so luminous that it was almost blinding. His hands rested on her hips, touching the fabric of her leotard. Initially his touch was gentle, but as his kisses grew more passionate, his nails dug through the flimsy material and tore it open, leaving a gaping hole near her navel.
Lena tried to ignore it, although she was a little unsettled by the sudden aggressiveness. His nails grazed against her bare flesh, whilst his lips traveled down to her neck. When she opened her eyes she was astonished to see that half of his white wings seemed dipped in charcoal.
“Wait…what’s happening?” she tried to pull away, b
ut when his gaze met hers, she saw that his eyes were glowing red. A slight fear crept into her veins, freezing her blood mid-flow. He disregarded her question, as his fingers tore at the sheets, his lips creating a passage down her neck and along her collarbone. She was torn between wanting him to stop because of what he was risking and the other that wanted him to continue. Heavy breathing filled the room with anticipation. With half-closed eyes, she only wanted to focus on the blissful feeling that his mouth brought her, kissing him back with a certain passion that seemed uncharacteristic of the way she always attempted to remain composed in all circumstances. When she came up for air, his wings hovered over them creating almost a miniature cave.
He bit down on her lip, and a sharp pain shot through her face. Lena quickly pushed him away, although with her mortal strength, it did really little to budge him from his position.
“What’s wrong with you?” she held unto her lip that was bleeding. Blood trickled down her chin, and landed on the front of her white leotard. It wasn’t until then, that Michael stopped and his wings that were merging with black, began to fade back to white.
“I’m sorry! I…this was a bad idea,” he told her, rising up, away from her, and heading towards her window.
“Don’t go! You promised!” she was on the verge of tears.
“I’m just a danger to you,” he told her, blasting open her window.
She sat up on her bed with pleading eyes, his muscular back facing her, the white wings outstretched above him.
“You’re not a danger to me, you saved me from Adriel that night! You’re not a danger,” she told him in a strained voice that had the tell-tale signs of sobs right behind the corner. Looking down at her bed, she noticed the torn sheets and her ruined leotard. “Please don’t go.”
But Michael said nothing to her, and soon was out into the night, his wings flapping wildly as though he couldn’t wait to get the farthest away from her as possible. The cut on her lip ceased to bleed, and she licked at the scab it left behind. She bit her lip, tasting new blood emerge. Love was like a cut that never healed. Once the blood stopped someone else could easily rip open the scab and let it bleed profusely once more. A never-ending pain that cut deep to the bone.
Chapter Twenty
There was no sun the morning Jon drove over to Dior Fontaine’s mansion. The elaborate gate was closed and he had to talk into a video surveillance operated microphone before the automatic gate opened and he could drive into the courtyard. He hadn’t been there since the night of the party a few months ago. Although, at the time he hadn’t realized how extravagant the property truly was. There was an Olympic pool, tennis courts, and a fountain of the three Greek muses near the center. He parked in what looked like to be a driveway and counted to ten before he stepped out, grabbing a small bag. The last time he saw Dior he had robbed her of her coveted tiara, smashing it on the ground. Now, in retrospect he felt a little ill at the mere thought that he could’ve done something like that. No one had seen Dior since Prom, but rumors spread that she had an accident in a grocery shop later that night.
A middle-aged woman wearing what looked like to be a maid uniform approached him. The woman had short brown hair with freckles dancing on her face that gave her stern features a girlish touch.
“Mademoiselle Fontaine isn’t feeling particularly well, I don’t know if she’ll wish to see you.”
“Did you tell her who I was?”
“Yes.”
“Please take me where she is. It’s important.”
The woman twitched her lip, reluctant in what she was about to do, but then asked him to follow her inside. Lavish furnishings decorated the home, and he quietly walked up the steps behind the woman, careful not to step on the heel of her shoe or walk into her whenever she’d stop without warning.
“You don’t know anything that has happened to her, do you?”
“Rumors here and there. Is she alright?”
“The poor soul is very changed. I’m warning you, she may not want to see you. She hasn’t wanted to see anyone in weeks.”
“I can handle it,” and with that they reached the end of the stairs. A long corridor was up ahead of them, and she stopped in front of a tall white door. She hesitated before knocking.
There was no response.
The woman knocked again.
“Yes?” Dior’s voice sounded faraway, almost coming from underground, muffled and hoarse.
“Mademoiselle Fontaine, you have a visitor.”
“I said I don’t want visits!” she shouted.
“But, Dior,” Jon quickly butted in, “It’s me, Jon.”
Silence. Then a sound of locks unlocking and the door pulled open.
“Come in,” he heard her say, but he couldn’t see her because the room was pitch black.
“Dior, what’s wrong?”
He felt her push past him, quickly closing the door behind him, locking it several times.
“Why did you come here?” her tone accusatory.
The room smelled of expensive floral perfumes. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he slowly began to make out the shape of her body. She was only standing a few inches away from him.
“I needed to see you. I wanted to say that I’m sorry that I was a jerk that night. It was out of line of me. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, you’re sorry, huh?” he detected a mocking tone. “I don’t think that sorry quite cuts it, boy.”
“I know, I was stupid to think that you’d forgive me.”
“You’re right. You were. What’s in the bag?”
“Nothing. It was stupid of me to bring it.”
“Show me.”
“How about turning on some lights?”
“How about you shut up and give me the bag?”
Jon did as he was told, not wanting to argue with her. The lack of light in the room unsettled him, and it didn’t help that shadows loomed around them like slithery snakes.
A flashlight spotlighted the contents of the bag and a strange laugh ensued soon after. Little speckles of rainbow danced around the light.
“You came here to give me a tiara?” The way she said it he suddenly knew that his notion had been folly, if not downright distasteful.
“I’m sorry, I just thought…”
“What?” she clipped, “Thought what? That I was just after a shiny crown? Did you really expect me to see this and be able to forgive you?!”
“I didn’t want to upset you. Look, I was worried. I haven’t seen you in school for almost two weeks now, you didn’t show up for any of your finals yet, and there’s rumors going around that you were attacked in a grocery store, so I wasn’t sure what to think.”
“I have good reason to hide.”
“What happened to you that night?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why? Did someone hurt you?”
“I don’t remember, okay? I don’t remember a single thing.”
Jon leaned back against the wall, his hands fumbling for a light switch, clicking on it.
“It doesn’t work. I deactivated it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m one with the darkness now.”
“What’s this nonsense?” he rushed towards her silhouette, tackling her to the ground, pinning her wrists down on the carpeted floor, and squeezing till she relented her grip on the flashlight. Jon grabbed it, and turned it on, letting the light shine down on her, as she turned away, her chocolate brown hair covering her face. He pulled the hair away and noticed that her face was wrapped in a white gauze like material that one used for bandages or mummies.
“Dior…what happened?”
“I don’t know! Don’t look at me!”
He roughly pulled her chin to face him, his fingers tugged at the bandages, his curiosity getting the best of him as he pulled some of it off. A heavy silence filled the room as he observed what used to be her flawless complexion, now, a mayhem of slits and red cuts. Without noticing, he dropped the flas
hlight in disbelief.
“Dior…how…what happened?” his voice cracked, a thought entered his mind that chilled his heart, but he quickly dismissed it.
“The doctors say that I violently crashed into a glass door. But I don’t remember.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, because the last thing I remember was running away from you.”
“I’m sorry…god..I never wanted something like this to happen to you.”
“Don’t look at me!” she screamed, “I’m hideous!” and with an aggressive gesture, turned her face away from him, allowing her hair to cover her once more.
“Don’t say that!”
“Don’t pity me now just because I’m a bigger freak than Sydney.”
“Dior…I…I’m sorry…”
“Stop saying you’re sorry!” her words got caught in her throat and she began to cry. He couldn’t see her tears in the darkness but heard her sobs. “Get off of me now, and forget you saw me like this. Don’t tell anyone you saw me like this!”
“Why did you let me in?”
“Because some stupid part of me was happy that you came to see me. A very stupid part of me. I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. I’m the idiot,” he said solemnly, lifting himself up from her, loosening his grip on her wrists. “I’ve ruined so much,” he murmured, shaking his head in self-disgust. Walking towards the door, he heard her stand up and soon after her hand was tugging at the back of his shirt.
“I don’t blame you, Jon.”
“You should. You have every right to.”
“I wish I could remember what happened. I try and try to think, but my brain is a complete blank.”
He turned around to face her, he felt her warm breath on his neck.
“Don’t worry about it, Dior. It’ll come to you. Sooner or later, it will.” Bending his neck down, he tentatively kissed her forehead, she didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry, for everything. I really am.”
Initially, she said nothing in return but then muttered, “All I ever wanted was for you to notice me. Everyone adored me, but you.”