The Journey

by Jennifer Ensley

  “What do you mean, see to my skin? You came for blood, not flesh.”

  “Yeah, yeah. But you remind me of this old man I know in Slovakia. He scowls at everybody.” I chuckled as I sat up. I can’t understand a single word he says. But when I massage his hands and arms, he quits quarreling and almost smiles.”

  I suddenly felt dizzy and my head started hurting.

  “Why do you have cause to touch this man? Are you a healer?”

  “No, nothing of the sort. Ugh… I think my sugar’s dropping.” I dug down in my bag, pulling out a Hershey bar and popping a piece in my mouth. “Every time I pass through there, there’s this sweet little family who lets me stay with them. Most of them can speak a bit of broken English. Well, enough so that we can get by for a few days. Not the old man.”

  “Then… why do you touch him?”

  “Want a bite?”

  I handed him the chocolate bar. He took it and sniffed it.

  “I touch him because… well… I have no other way to communicate with him. It’s my way of showing him how much I appreciate him letting me stay in his home. He’s bed-ridden. Go on. Have a bite.”

  Azazel shook his head.

  “Oh, come on. It’s not like I’m contagious or anything. Here. I’ll break a piece off from the other end.”

  “I do not eat.”

  “Eat?” I snickered. “Chocolate ain’t got nothing to do with eating. You eat chocolate because it’s chocolate. Not because it’s food.”

  Ignoring his protests, I broke off a square and stuck it in his mouth while I continued on with my story.

  “Anyway… the old man stays in a back room of the house—all alone, always yelling about something. One day I stayed there while everyone else went to school or out to run errands.” I took another bite of chocolate and gave Azazel another square as well. “He woke up, yelling about something or other. He didn’t want anything I offered him—no water, no food, not even his bedpan. Exhausted, and just about stressed completely out, I plopped down on the side of his bed. He quit hollering then and his eyes went wide.” I chuckled at the memory. “I told him I wasn’t going to hurt him, but I didn’t have a clue what he wanted. That’s when I grabbed the lotion from his nightstand and started rubbing it onto his hands and forearms… talking all the while.”

  Azazel smiled. “Yes. I can picture it clearly.”

  I stuffed another piece of chocolate into his smirking mouth and went on.

  “He couldn’t understand a single word I said, no, but the more I massaged his hands, the fewer wrinkles he had right there.” I gently poked the Angel’s drawn forehead, and then started rubbing lotion into his palm. “See? Doesn’t that feel good?”

  “Yes… it does.”

  “I know it does. I may not indulge in all of life’s little pleasures, but I always try to find time for a good mani-pedi day. It washes away everything. A good manicurist is worth their weight in gold, far as I’m concerned.”

  I glanced at Azazel’s relaxing brow line, and the tiny smile tugging at the corners of his chapped lips.

  “Here. Try just a sip of water—help wash the chocolate down.”

  He didn’t resist me this time. I filled the plastic cap, then carefully dripped it through his parted lips.

  “See how much better things go when you just listen?”

  He looked at me sideways, smirking slightly. “It is not one of my finer attributes—listening.”

  “Yeah, so I’ve read. Okay, one more awesome chocolate square before I get lotion on my hands again.”

  He closed his eyes that time, thoroughly enjoying the melting goodness now coating his mouth.

  I giggled. “I knew you’d like it.”

  “I never said I did.”

  “You didn’t have to.” I winked at him. “I can see it in your eyes. Anyway, now… every time I go to Slovakia, I give that grumpy old man a manicure. Since that day, he hasn’t yelled a single time during one of my visits.”

  “I can see why. Yet, tell me. Why are you blessing me thusly? I have not yelled at you. Not once. And I am definitely not a grumpy old man.”

  “Whatever, Gramps.” I winked at him again, but he didn’t seem pleased with my teasing. “Remember what I told you before, Azazel? When I don’t have the proper—needed—words… I resort to physical contact to communicate my feelings.” I sort of shrugged my shoulders. “And I’m also doing it because… because… Well, because I hate seeing such a noble creature lying here in such a state.”

  “Hmpft… Silly child, nobility is not a birthright.”

  “You say it true, silly Angel. It is defined by one’s actions.”

  “Pfft.”

  He looked away. I didn’t speak, but neither did I stop my delicate ministrations toward his pitifully withered arm.

  “My pride brought me to this, Jem,” he softly whispered.

  “Yes… I know. Pride is a destroyer of souls, weak and strong alike.”

  “Hmpft. For a woman who wishes not to cast blame or pass judgements, you certainly have a painful little way of doing both. It leaves quite a sting.”

  “That was not my intent. I promise.” I cut him a sideways glance and smiled. “In truth, I was afraid to slice such brittle flesh. Even with just a thumbnail. I feared only dust would spill forth from the wound.”

  His mouth half fell open then. “Are you… are you making fun of me?”

  “No.” I bit my lip and looked down. “I would never do such a thing. Pffts.”

  I quickly turned my head, trying to hide my growing smile.

  “You are!” He grabbed my chin and turned me back to face him. “You’re laughing at me.”

  I did snicker then. “So what? Yes, I’m laughing at you. Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one laying there feeling sorry for yourself. You’d think after all these many years, you would finally be resigned to the fact.”

  He smiled with only one corner of his mouth, then released me. “I take it all back. You are neither sweet nor are you innocent. You are a demon, one sent to torture what is left of me.”

  “You never actually said I was sweet. You must’ve just been thinking that part. And… how is it you’re now crying torture when a minute ago you were going on about how good this felt?”

  He openly smirked. “You have a sharp tongue, child. I see now. A wicked little thing, when you want to be.”

  “Not truly. It’s just… well, things were getting a bit heavy there for a minute. I was only trying to lighten the tension.”

  “If that is true, you should apologize for such harsh words.”

  “Azazel, remember when I said I didn’t apologize for things I wasn’t sorry about? This is one of those times. Now, quit whining and give me your other hand.”

  I leaned toward the darkened side of his body, the side which the tiny candle could not reach.

  “Apologies, lovely Jem. That is a request I simply cannot fulfill.”

  “Why not?”

  “Bring your light closer.”

  I did… and was horrified by this new revelation. Not only was his entire lower half completely covered with giant sharp stones, so too was his right arm—pinned and immovable.

  “Why do you cry?”

  I quickly wiped at my eyes. “I’m not crying.”

  “Must have been my mistake. A trick of the flame, perhaps.”

  I huffed out a chuckle when I glanced down at his sardonic smirk. “Smarty pants.”

  He smiled then. “Oh, such language. Careful you do not taint my angelic ears, little one.”

  “Hmm…” I sort of laughed. “I never thought you’d be like this—playful and teasing. I always took you for a bloodthirsty womanizer.”

  “And what made you think that?”

  “What indeed. Do I not now speak with the very creature who introduced man to the ways of war? The very one who taught men the craft of forging swords and women the art of using make-up. Are you not the Angel who enlightened my kind with the ways of bloo
d and seduction?”

  “As you say, I only introduced such things. Man has always had a rather, shall we say, vivid imagination.”

  I smiled as I finished up his massage. “Are you saying you did not partake in the fruits of you labor?”

  “No, I am not that bold a liar. I partook… as often and as freely as I chose.”

  We shared a knowing glance and smiled.

  “Well, it looks like all that partaking has left your nails in horrible disrepair. I’ll see to them this time, but I don’t expect to find them in such shape again. You hear me, Angel?”

  I thought for a moment his eyes sparkled. Just a tiny bit, mind you. Then it was gone.

  “On my nonexistent honor, Witness Jem, I will not partake in a single battle nor succumb to the delicious taste of a woman’s flesh from this moment until next we meet.”

  “Well met, Angel. I expect you to act decently and honorably with all your appointed guests this coming week. Do so try to be a gentleman.”

  “Now who’s being the smarty pants?”

  I only smiled again as I went back to clipping his nails, filing down the broken corners and buffing them until they shined.

  “There then,” I said through a satisfied smile. “Never have I seen you look more handsome.”

  When I turned to put away my nail kit, he yanked hard on my ponytail.

  “Hey! What was that for?”

  He huffed. “If I were but a mere shadow of my former self, I would mark you with my teeth.”

  “Pfft. If you were but a mere shadow of your former self, I wouldn’t have come within a thousand miles of you. Much less, held your hand.”

  “Wise girl.” He looked up toward the ceiling. “Very wise indeed.”

  I didn’t say anything as I started packing up my things. He lightly touched my back before next he spoke.

  “You were my favorite kind—all smiles… believing that life was wondrous and the world was full of magic. I envied the ones like you.”

  “You mean… you hated the ones like me.”

  “Hated? Well… perhaps. I wanted what you had—mountains of love and oceans full of faith. I envied them. I envy you.”

  “And yet… you said they were your favorite. Tell me. Did you think by claiming that person, by binding them to your will, you would somehow feel the things they felt?”

  “Perhaps. Or… perhaps it was simply the light in their captivated eyes. I loved looking upon that gloriously hope-filled sparkle.”

  “So… what happened? Did they lose their sparkle, their wonderment?”

  He cut his glance sideways towards me. “You know they did. The saddest thing I ever bore witness to—watching that enchanting sparkle die away.”

  “Well…” I took another drink of water before going on. “…that’s because a heart can never be owned, Azazel. It must be fed, nourished, loved. If you cage it up and demand it perform simply for your amusement, how can it continue to shine like it once did? You, yourself, are a perfect example—all the glory of heaven… now bound and withering.”

  He sort of grunted, or… perhaps it was a growl. “Take what you came for and be gone, human. I grow tired of your ridiculous drivel.”

  “Very well, oh mighty one. I’ll get on with it and get out of your celestial hair. But… when the truth hurts, it’s always better to figure out why. Not simply get angry because it did.”

  He snorted and looked away.

  “Alright, Azazel. I’ll shut up now.” I took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Do you have a preference where I should, umm… stick you?”

  I held up my thumbnail as he glanced back towards me, a tiny smile now tugging at the left side of his parched lips.

  “I will leave that decision up to you, little one. It will feel the same to me no matter from whence you choose to draw my blood.”

  “I prefer not to do it where you have already been cut.”

  “Then your options are few.”

  “Yeah… that’s just what I was thinking.”

  “The mark you will leave upon me will be but a tiny one. Do not fear, Jem. Your cut will not hurt me.”

  “Oh, hang on.” I dug back through my bag. “Here we go.” I pulled out a little travel sized box of bandages. “Sorry. They are little pink pony ones. That’s all I got. But they have antibiotic ointment already on them. Nothing’s worse than a fingernail scratch—full of germs and yucky stuff. It takes a human scratch longer to heal than a cat scratch. Not sure why, though. Cats have got to have nastier habits than people do.”

  “Shhh…” He touched my trembling hand. “It will be fine, Jem. I promise. And the next time you come here, you won’t even bat a lash as you draw my blood. The first time is always the hardest.”

  “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

  “Of course I am. Now, come. Stick me.” He smiled when I hesitated. “I promise not to scream. Well… not too loudly.”

  I returned his reassuring smile. “You’re not helping.”

  “Yes I am. Now, do what it is you were chosen to do.”

  He gently caressed my cheek then. I couldn’t help but meet his now tender gaze. We stayed like that for several heartbeats before he broke our silence.

  “I lied,” he softly whispered.

  I didn’t speak.

  “I do not truly wish you to leave. I have not spoken for centuries. My voice has lain dormant within me. You gave it life again.”

  He smiled then, truly smiled. It was breathtaking. Something about him had changed. He still looked the same, yes—decrepit, ancient, mummified. And yet… at the same time… he looked almost alive… almost new.

  “In our few short moments together here, you have shown me more compassion than I ever bestowed upon another living creature. You lift me up… and fill me with shame.”

  “But I never meant to—”

  “Shhh…” He touched my speaking lips. “My feelings are mine own. You cannot claim authorship to my words, or my thoughts.”

  I sat there perfectly still, desperately praying for him to look away, to break the heart-shattering gaze we now held. Yet, he did not. I felt the cool path my tears left upon my trembling cheeks. Still, his haunting eyes did not waver from mine.

  “I will share with you something I should not, little one. I wish to return the kindness you have so easily gifted me this day.”

  I couldn’t agree or protest. My tongue lay dormant behind my now clenched teeth. I didn’t feel stricken, or anything. I simply felt nothing, really. No admiration or loyalty or subservience. Yet, I could not look away. The longer I listened to his voice, the sweeter it became.

  “As you start down this lonesome path… you will meet creatures great and small, strange and common. Many will be there to help you. Many will simply ignore your presence. And a few will even wish you harm. Spend precious few moments within the Nether, child. Use it as a gateway only. Do not linger where you do not belong. You are a Witness, yes. Yet you are not meant to record the goings-on there. Keep your head down, always. And most importantly… never run out of my tainted blood. It is the key you will ever need.”

  Without breaking our locked gaze, he lifted the pendant and gently ran his thumb across the stones. When he smiled again, I mirrored his gesture.

  “When your travels force you to return to me, I wish to hear all the stories your shoes could tell if they were granted speech.” He tenderly lifted my hand and lightly placed it upon his emaciated chest. “Stick me here, Jem. It is only right for my flesh to display without what my soul is now experiencing within.”

  “You wish me to pierce you here? Over your heart?”

  “Yes.” He smiled again. “Fear not. You have already pierced me there. You simply cannot see the damage with your eyes.”

  “That’s not funny, Azazel.”

  “It was not meant to be.” He pressed my hand against his chest. “Please… draw blood from here.”

  I stared into his pleading eyes for a long moment, before reluctantly co
mplying.

  “Very well. I asked.”

  “Yes, you did. And you will never have to ask again. My answer will always and forever be… draw the blood from my heart.”

  I furrowed my brow as I examined the brittle flesh covering his all-too-visible ribcage. “Ugh… I think I like you better when you’re being a smarty pants.”

  He chuckled. “I am certain you do. I am not blind, little one. I can see well—you have a problem with emotional closeness. You said you used physical contact when you didn’t have the words to express yourself. This is not true. You use physical contact—like massaging my hand—not to communicate, but to keep your distance. You use touch to guard your heart… and the mighty fortress you have it locked within—touch. It is strange, Jem. You are strange.”

  I half smiled. “There’s the Azazel I know and love.”

  He chuckled again. “You do not know me. Neither do you love me.”

  He paused long enough for me to stop what I was doing and meet his gentle gaze.

  “Umm… Sorry, but you ended that sentence like there was more to come.”

  “Because there is, lovely Jem. So… much… more.”

  “Stop it, Angel. You’re giving me the willies.”

  He half laughed when I visibly shivered.

  “Yes… terrified of emotional attachments.”

  “That’s not true. You know nothing about me, Azazel—proven by that statement alone. I’m one of the most emotional people you will ever meet. I cry at the drop of a hat—watching kittens pretend they are lions, hearing children squeal with laughter, lying on my back in a field while the gentle breeze bends the daisies down to kiss and tickle my flesh.”

  “Those are tears of joy. They do not count. And I didn’t say you had a problem being emotional. I said you feared emotional attachment. Those are two entirely different things, child.”

  I didn’t go on. I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I refused to have this uncomfortable conversation. Especially with him.

  “You do not have to speak aloud concerning your tears of sorrow. I know, minus your words… they are many… and they are often. Yet… even those tears are shed at a distance.”

  “Please… stop.”