Ashes

by P. M. Briede

The question was so random that it took me a minute to grasp his implication. “You saw me?” He nodded. “Then why…”

  “Again, I mean you no harm. Right now,” Methos barreled over me. Then he switched topics. “Are you even able to fully appreciate the war you’ve started?”

  “I’ve started!” I exclaimed. He had to be joking. “Last I checked I wasn’t the one manipulating people in an attempt to destroy the world. Look in my eyes if you don’t believe me.” I expected him to immediately seize upon the opportunity. He didn’t move. If anything he seemed to shrink back into the wall. “Are you afraid of me?” I asked with a furrowed brow.

  That surprised him and a corner of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Many of us are, given what you are,” Methos explained. “Muses aren’t to be trifled with and from what I’ve heard and seen, you break the mold. You may not have intentionally started this war but you aren’t doing anything to actually help us stop it.”

  That assumption rocked me and I took two menacing steps towards him. I’m not exactly sure what I thought I could do. “You have no right to say that! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? What I’ve sacrificed?”

  “I’m aware of the small struggles you’ve endured.” Small struggles! “But you managed to turn Lucifer’s most dedicated soldier back to God, something that shouldn’t have been possible. That single act tipped the scales and led us to the situation we’re now entrenched in.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose. I was fourteen,” I desperately interjected. You would have thought turning Olivier from evil to good would have been a lauded act not a despised one.

  Methos shook his head. “But you aren’t anymore,” he said. “Most women, most men really, would have scorned Olivier when they found out what he was. What he’d done. But not you. You offered him friendship then love. He was an enemy we understood and therefore could counter plan against. You turned him into a loose cannon which in turn confounded his compatriots, causing them to speed up their timeline.”

  This was just too much to take in. “So you’re saying it would have been better if I’d rejected Olivier?” Methos answered without hesitation with a simple “yes.” “I don’t understand. Exactly why is it a bad thing to tip the scales in your favor?” I looked at the ground as I heard my broken, sad voice. Why was it better to have left Olivier as he was?

  Methos made a decision and finally took the few steps between us to stand before me. He handled me as if I were a snake, taking my hands in his iron-clad grip. “Mrs. Grace, the world needs balance. Humans cannot understand the value of good if they never experience evil. That’s what gives you freewill. My job is to maintain the balance the world needs. Do you understand?”

  I nodded resentfully. I had always hated the saying “sacrifice the one to protect the whole” and right now that’s what I felt his explanation was. Olivier’s sense of self-worth and true desire to do good wasn’t important enough to justify the imbalance it produced. But it was to me. Unfortunately, I was just another cog in the wheel, though of powerful influence, yet it wasn’t enough. “If it’s balance you want than why didn’t you take Celinda when you saw her alter Wesley’s mind in August?”

  “Because at that point I wasn’t sure it would restore the balance.”

  Of course it wouldn’t! I sighed and dropped my head. “So then what happens now? If the goal is balance and not stopping the end of the world, what are you after?”

  Methos didn’t answer my questions. After dealing with Olivier it wasn’t surprising. “It’s not over yet. If your offer still stands, I’d like to take that look and see the Olivier Cheval and Wesley Breaux you know.” I lifted my eyes from the floor and met Methos’ flaming blue ones, giving him free reign over my memories.

  When he was done he released my hands and moved towards Olivier. Methos peered into Olivier’s eyes then his were consumed in flames. I didn’t need to see Olivier’s to know they’d done so in response. “He won’t even remember I came. Now no more talk of blue-eyed exiles, alright Mrs. Grace?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Methos sighed in exasperation. “There are no blue-eyed exiles. They don’t exist. We all were given certain powers in the beginning. Most angels pass out God’s judgment. Some are imbued with his grace. None of those were exiled or banished because we didn’t stray.” Olivier’s voice echoed in my head. It’s a sure fire way to identify an angel. But if the green flames were for judgment and Methos just said some angels distribute grace, did that mean… “Am I going to have to wipe your mind or do we understand each other?” Methos’ question interrupted my train of thought.

  “We understand.”

  “Good,” he said with a sharp nod. “Time will resume when I’m gone from the boat. Don’t leave this room. It needs to appear as if it never stopped.” He positioned Olivier back in the doorway. Then in the blink of an eye Methos was gone.

  I’m not sure what I expected but in truth I wouldn’t have had time to leave if I’d wanted it. Another blink and the boat lurched from a wave, causing Olivier and I to stumble. “Everything alright?” Olivier asked with a confused expression. He was looking at me with concern. Methos was right, Olivier had no memory Methos had been here.

  “I’m sorry, Olivier. I’m just not feeling very well,” I lied. “Do you mind taking me home?” Olivier was disappointed but he didn’t argue with me. Instead he turned and collected everything from the stern. I took the time alone to gather my thoughts. How was I, a mortal muse, supposed to protect everyone when both sides blamed me for this war?

  Chapter 9

  It wasn’t until we were driving home that we both checked our phones. The news outlets were full of reports of mass suicide bombings wreaking havoc in Bangladesh, Qatar, Basra, Multan, Zagreb, and Kiev. None of which were overwhelmingly known for political strife. It was almost as if their lack of upheaval was the reason they were selected for destruction. After all there’s no reason to terrorize areas which are already terrorizing themselves. It’s much better to incite the peaceful to violence, disrupt their routines, and spread the superpowers so thinly they can’t actually help anyone. There was no doubt in my mind this was the second charge of the exiles. Given that so far both waves had happened on back-to-back days, we were all afraid of how we’d find the world in the morning.

  After school the next day, the sweat was dripping down my body as Olivier worked me over from top to bottom. I felt exhilarated and exhausted as I struggled to keep up with him. The events and emotions from the day before shined out of his eyes, they were driving his hunger now. With a nod and a kiss on the forehead he walked away to grab a water for the both of us. I took the time to stretch my sore muscles, ogling the lines of his form. How was he able to find every single muscle I had and put it through the wringer? “You doing okay?” he asked between gulps of water.

  “Oh, I’m fine.” I smiled at him appreciatively while I caught my breath. “I was wondering how you were doing?”

  He finished his water as he returned to me. “Mmm. You want to know how I’m doing.” Each of his hands snatched my hips after he threw his water to the ground and pulled my body to his. “Does that adequately answer your question?” Yes, it did. Looping my arms around his neck, I got up on my tiptoes to steal a gentle kiss. “You ready for another go, then?” he asked.

  “That depends, are you up for it?” Because Olivier was caught in what I knew were my own dancing eyes, he chuckled and pushed me away. As I watched him place his body and lift his arms to come after me I couldn’t help but laugh as I spread my legs and brought my own arms up closer to my face. He circled me for a moment but I wasn’t falling for that this time. I kept my eyes trained on him, mainly at his hips as they would broadcast when he’d charge.

  When he finally did, I was ready. Quickly sidestepping him I delivered a swift kick to his abdomen. My balance was tipped when he caught my heel so I surrendered to the momentum of the fall and rolled out of it, springing to my feet ready for his next
attack. It was a good thing because it was immediate. There was barely enough time to think before his fists rained down on me. I was able to deflect each swing from hitting my face or body as I retreated from him. Once I regained my balance, I planted one of my feet, knelt down, and swept his legs out from under him.

  He’d break his fall and be up before I knew it so I didn’t turn my back on him. “Very good!” Olivier pronounced, “I guess now it’s time to stop holding back.” He was holding back! That did not bode well for me. Kicking his legs out, Olivier leapt up from his back. I’d thought the previous assaults were fast. I’d thought wrong. The punches flew like snapping snakes while each step occurred only after a whip cracking kick. It surprised me but between my arms and legs I blocked and countered each of his parries and thrusts. Each hit was a jolt to my body but I pushed through the pain. The evidence of this would only last until our next kiss.

  We carried on this way for probably another ten minutes until Olivier finally called it. “Excellent, Charlotte!” His fingers started working the strained muscles in my neck. I left him to his dedicated ministrations and pulled the gloves off my hands and the pads off my arms. “You’re getting stronger and faster.”

  “I would hope so, Olivier. We’ve only been doing this almost every day since the convention.” My stamina wasn’t an issue per se, but blocking, kicking, and punching someone to defend yourself is a night and day difference from kicking your leg to dance. Although my dancing experience did offer some benefits to my newest pursuit in that I had excellent balance and I could read a body. Olivier taught me how to take a blow and block to soften it. I now knew how to kick through a target instead of at it. Yet all of that required me to use my muscles differently and a hot bath coupled with his deep tissue massages and healing kisses kept them from getting too tender.

  When all the pads were off, Olivier examined me, familiarizing himself with my newest bruises. Once complete he kissed me, sending a probing burn searching through me. I expected him to stop after the healing burn ebbed. Instead, his kiss changed to one of deep desire and passion. “One of these days, very soon, if you care for me at all, you need to let me spar with you between the sheets again.”

  With his skin glistening from sweat and his face flushed, he looked so tempting. I questioned myself on why I couldn’t give in to his request. Right, Wesley. Good God! I needed to find a way to keep my senses when I was around them, or better yet, make a decision. Slowly Olivier’s nose nudged mine again and just before I lost myself I was saved by the bell, or ringer I guess.

  “What’s up, Paige?” I answered.

  “Where are you? Have you seen the news?” What calamity had happened now? The last two days had made me want to avoid the news at all costs. For me, ignorance was bliss. I told her this and that I was at the school with Olivier. “Look a hurricane’s coming and for some reason I just have a bad feeling about it.”

  We always joked about her being clairvoyant but there were times when it seemed like she really was and oddly it was always tied to weather. When Katrina hit, she’d packed up the boys and sealed up the house before the state of emergency and the evacuation orders were announced. “I didn’t think it was on track for Louisiana.”

  “Yeah, that’s what they’re saying but something’s not sitting right. That’s not why I called though. Look, um, I’m not really sure how to tell you this, but I just found out your trial is scheduled to start next week. The DA is wondering if you can come in tomorrow after school for some prep.” I found her hesitancy upsetting.

  There had to be something wrong with the case. I summoned my courage to find out. “Spit it out, Paige, what’s the bad news?” Olivier took a protective step towards me when he heard my question which was accompanied by a reflexive rippling of the muscles in his arms. Once she did, I wished she hadn’t. The DA was choosing to eliminate any evidence that could appear cross contaminated by Paige. While the amount left over was still hefty, they’d been trying to avoid having to use the most damning evidence they had: what they’d collected off me. And the reason: simply my comfort since I wasn’t really eager to testify. If they didn’t use that evidence than I wasn’t necessarily the accuser and could avoid, on a technicality, having to deal with their right to cross examine me. By pulling the bulk of evidence out from the kitchen, hallway, and den the bottom line was the case wasn’t as strong. What made it air tight? My testimony.

  She informed me of the time and location of the DA’s office. “Hey, am I on speaker?” If she was asking it was because whatever she was going to say next Olivier needed to hear. I hit the button and confirmed she was. “Olivier, they also want to see you, as um, Jeff? How do we want to play that?”

  “Since they know I’m in town, can I accompany Charlotte tomorrow?” Olivier asked due to my outright discomfort at having to go. “Or is the DA insisting we are kept separate?” Please say yes, please say yes! Having Olivier there would make this whole thing much less painful. When Paige said she’d make the necessary arrangements so I wouldn’t have to suffer through the ordeal alone, the ten ton weight on my chest fell away.

  As Olivier and I drove home I thought about my conversation with the angel the day before. Methos was wrong. Olivier switching sides, realizing the mistakes he’d made and working to be better, wasn’t a hindrance to the world’s balance. In that moment I resolved to prove it before this whole fiasco was over. I would not let Olivier burn for the sins of the exiles.

  The remainder of the week was no better than the start. The trial prep with the DA was just that, a trial. Not only did I have to relive the nightmare once but to ensure I was prepared for the potential cross examination I had to verbalize the incident over and over and over again to improve my consistency, remove my emotional flourishes, and keep my answers concise and factual.

  Outside my world was just one human travesty after another. Hurricane Fernando hit the southern Atlantic islands, Florida, and crept up the East Coast over the remainder of the week. Not necessarily unheard of for the fall, but every major city hit by the class four weather system was evacuated only to have people return to looting and violence when the water receded. Again, not atypical for hard hit areas to some degree, but the widespread nature and level were outrageous. Think Katrina times a hundred.

  Then the United Nations announced nuclear weapons sites are not being researched and developed in Afghanistan, North Korea, and Syria, all countries the world had been watching for years. No it turned out the concern had been underrated. Clear evidence was discovered that those countries are armed. Speculation of the targets and range of the missiles was all any military personnel was asked to comment on. Talk of trade sanctions, invasions, and drones dominated the political spin. I’d never lived through the Cold War and my father had been a small child at the tail end of it. But it sounded like that part of our world history was about to repeat itself. With the evidence piling up, panic ramped up and the nations working to rid the world of nuclear weapons put their efforts on hold.

  All were polarizing news stories not just for America, but for all nations. All were destructive tragedies and each would have stirred the international melting pot on their own. All had had their equivalent happen at some point in our history. But the combination of four major horrific events in one week sent world leaders into hyper-drive and their citizens came out in droves marching for their beliefs on every capital across the globe.

  Bottom line, fear was the main headline. People were afraid to go out in public or to public events for fear of getting shot or blown up. People were afraid to return to their homes on the East coast for fear of what they’d find lurking in the shadows. Nations were wary and conflicted on whether to take the necessary steps to ensure the world’s safety for fear of who was skulking behind the scenes ready to step in and maybe actually pull the trigger instead of just threatening to.

  Tristan and Wesley became incommunicado as each catastrophe hit the media outlets. I was lucky if I got a text from Wesley, the
re were no calls. They were buried in briefings, press conferences, debates, interviews, public events, private events; the list was endless. Alexander traveled throughout the South for each different platform addressing local, national, and international concerns like a pro. I knew who kept him on track and between the three men I have no idea how they didn’t stumble. The only good thing to come out of these calamities was that the political talk was back on subjects that mattered. As I watched the news, Alexander gave the words and ideas a voice, but I heard Wesley’s unique touch and was immensely proud.

  Paige was also swimming in evidence from the Labor Day shooting so the boys finished out the week at my house. This put a crimp in Olivier’s plan as I wouldn’t let him in my bed but it was fun to watch Spencer tease him about having to be roomies. It did let Paige and Tristan spend what little time was available between their hectic work demands together without disturbing her sons or being disturbed by them. Tristan didn’t make the trips, manning the home base instead.

  This suited the needs of our covert operation to not have Celinda find out Wesley wasn’t under her spell anymore because it left him alone and mostly in her care. But being someone who loved and worried about him I was constantly tied up in knots. The texts helped for a brief millisecond. I was aware they were just a snapshot in time and the next second could be the one in which I lost him. The only relief came from knowing Abigail didn’t travel either. Because of her supposed medical background, the Wyatt’s insisted she shouldn’t accompany the campaign and remain at the hospital helping those injured on Labor Day.

  The campaign was scheduled to leave on Saturday to start a tour of the swing states. Rallying behind Louisiana and then the South in general had given their opponent free reign of Ohio, Iowa, Nevada, and New Mexico. The support and genuine concern the Wyatt’s revealed for the shooting and hurricane victims did give him a bit of a political boost in Florida, Maine, Pennsylvania, and Virginia. Seeing Alexander rush back to those who had trusted and relied on him for so long gave those cities and states suffering from the same misfortunes an idea of how he’d care for the country if ever faced with the same set of circumstances.