by O. Rose
In the dream he came on the wind to see the babe, new and sleeping. Kept with a nursemaid who had an infant of her own. The little princess’s life was priority over her child, so said the king, and even though she didn’t want the job it was do or die. She kept herself and child on the other side of the room.
She didn’t see him, neither did the sleeping royalty, and Emma wasn’t sure who she was in this dream, some third party watching from the sidelines. She saw his dark expression as he watched the new life for a while and then the woman who was supposed to care for her.
When she woke it was dark. There were crickets and the glass doors were open. Gauzy drapes billowed as a warm current brought sweet scented air in from the garden-out-of-time.
He was there, standing still as a statue. Would it have been like this, if she’d not had to die? Would he have been her husband and would she have loved him? Would he have loved her?
Looking at him, his back turned, Emma knew she definitely would have loved him. If she was made to stay she still might and she wasn’t sure if she could fight it. She didn’t know him, nothing about him was freely visible. It would be foolish to fall in love.
He could hurt her again. Kill her again.
She’d never loved anyone. There was no time to grow attached, even when she lived for a while no one loved her, they didn’t even like her, so why would she love them?
“I mourned for longer than you can imagine, still mourn.” The sound of his voice was so soft, calming, that the sudden marring of silence didn’t startle her. “Had the queen killed with any other motive in mind your deaths would not have happened.”
Emma wondered how often he thought of it and why. If he was being honest, then that aspect wasn’t his fault and what good did dwelling on it do?
He shifted and even his profile was flawless. A feeling of melancholy gripped her. She could never match him. No one could.
“I didn’t offer the queen her desire from the goodness of my heart,” he revealed, turning to face Emma fully and she was stunned by his beauty in the pale, glittering moonlight. “You cannot comprehend how long I’ve walked alone. Once in a while there is a companion, one who ages and leaves for a place I can never go,” he stepped into the room. “You,” closer and to the edge of the bed; he pressed a finger to her cheek, “were, are, to be mine.”
She felt like a fool, staring at him like an idiot, mouth slightly open in awe. Not at his words, but at him. Who was he and what was he doing here?
“Your deaths were a reminder, startling and unwelcome, that I have only an illusion of control. Free will is unpredictable and unstoppable.”
Her whispered question passed lips without consent. “Are you God?”
His short, breathy, laugh wasn’t exactly amused. “No. I am old, older than I can tell you, but not eternal. I’ve never made anything and I am not blamed for every passing sadness yet ignored for lasting happiness.” He sounded sympathetic to the idea, like he almost understood how it would feel but not quite. “You think what I do is magic, you’re wrong. These things are all here, nothing gained or lost. Energy and matter cannot be destroyed or created. I’ve learned how to access and use it.” He took a step back, a thoughtful look on his face. “Others did once, some still do. Most are condemned to decay, but it was meant to be for all.”
She got the impression he wasn’t talking to her anymore, his gaze seemed far away. She had another question though and the fear of him was still with her, but lessened in the shimmer of moonshine. “What are you then?”
His eyes found her once more and he answered, “Still a man, mostly, but I can’t die. Even if I want to.”
“If you’re a man then how could you offer that deal?” she asked, growing bolder.
“I’ve done things I shouldn’t. You all think death is punishment, you aren’t exactly wrong, but leaving this level for another doesn’t have to be bad. I can’t leave, this body is destined to live despite my best efforts.”
He didn’t sound so otherworldly when he said that. Words a riddle of rueful resentment.
“Like you.” Then he sat on the bed and Emma jumped out of her skin. “I blame him sometimes, too. Why didn’t he stop me? Why did he let me push so far? Then I remember I can blame myself. How many times did I ignore the prickling thoughts that I should stop? How many times did I fail and then try again?”
She didn’t understand what he was talking about.
“You can blame me, you’re right to. You can’t go on either and I don’t know what will happen when the inevitable death of everything comes. Maybe I’ll be forgiven by then and you didn’t ask for this.”
As he pulled back the covers and got beneath she quickly moved as far to the other side of the bed as possible. He noticed, thought it was funny, but didn’t try to move closer.
When he didn’t speak again, lay still with his eyes closed, one more question came to mind.
“What’s your name?” Whispered as all the rest, but she knew he heard.
His eyes remained shut as he spoke, “Call me whatever you like, I don’t remember my name anymore.”
∞
Emma didn’t notice falling back to sleep. She watched him for a long time and then it was morning. He was still there, awake before her and lying still because at some point one of them, both of them, found each other and she was snug beneath his arm, head and a hand resting on his chest.
Embarrassing. The most embarrassing thing to ever happen, but flinging away would make it worse; instead she froze.
He was undisturbed by the situation, but her heart? It was hammering and she knew he knew. He remained still though, didn’t release her.
Slowly her pulse decreased from frantic to resting. She was still shocked by their position, never thought she’d find herself anywhere near this, but it wasn’t so jarring anymore. Unusual and awkward? Absolutely.
Was this what the future held for them?
“Today,” he began and Emma was startled all over again. She could hear the smile as he continued, “We’re going into the world.” He removed from her and the bed; she sat looking at the sheets. “Dress warmly. In the dresser by the door are clothes more appropriate than very old dresses.”
Then he was gone, disappeared once more.
With a deep breath she tried to bury her nerves and moved to look for clothing. A door also appeared, when opened it led to another bathroom. Smaller than the last, yet similar in style; the tub was built up from the floor and against the wall, covered in mosaic tile like the floor. There was another pedestal sink and this room contained a free-standing shelving unit. She found there all manner of bottles and colored liquids, brushes and combs. Hair accessories. There was even a jewelry box, filled to the brim and spilling over with sparkle.
It was all more than she’d ever dreamed of having.
In the dresser she found underthings and a sweater, off the shoulder and very fashionable in burgundy. The next drawer contained a pair of brown shorts and thigh-high plaid socks; apparently there was no need to choose an outfit, pick a piece and the dresser did the rest.
She could have felt insulted, but chose grateful instead. She’d had enough of negativity for the moment; it was exhausting being angry and frightened. In any case, she could admit she had no sense in this arena. All her clothes came from super centers at best, discounted and out of season at worst.
When she turned to head into the bathroom a pair of knee-high boots caught her eye, by the door and she knew they’d not been there before. She was sure they’d fit perfectly.
It didn’t seem so unexpected anymore.
Chapter Six
When they stepped outside Emma realized it was much warmer than it should have been. The sky over the house was clear, yet beyond the gate were clouds; not full of rain, but autumn gloom. Within the lawn the air was calm, away from it she could see trees swaying in a strong gust. Red gold leaves flew from branches.
“You said it’s not magic,” she turned to him as he step
ped off the threshold and onto the drive. Her fear was mostly abated, not all the way but close. “What is it then?”
He gave her a sideways glance and the view stunned her. Was he born looking like that?
“It’ll be easier to explain later.”
He said no more and she realized all she could do was wait.
“Levi.” She spoke the name definitively. She’d not put much thought into it; it felt right and he looked to her when she said it, but there was no sign either way. He didn’t approve or disapprove; when he said it didn’t matter he meant it.
She could change it later, but for now he seemed like a ‘Levi’. She didn’t remember meeting anyone with the name before and that was the main reason she chose it. Unique.
Emma never doubted that she was different, it was clear, but for the first time it didn’t feel like the worst thing in the world. Without the fear of death hanging over her head, in a place with a man who didn’t keep her at arms length, she could almost like being alive.
That was a major first. There was never anything good, nothing to look forward to. But with Levi, well, she wasn’t ready to be too invested or let herself be completely at ease.
She followed as he walked, a leisurely pace, down the slight incline. He wore a long black coat, a sweater and slacks; the picture of a gentleman. The air he carried was old-fashioned, reminiscent of a classier time. He would unquestionably hold open doors and pull out chairs.
Possibly without using his hands.
Emma wanted to know exactly what he did and how he did it, but was wary of pushing the issue. Despite the relative safety she’d enjoyed over the last day, he was strong. Stronger than anyone she’d ever met and she had no way of knowing what step might take her over the line. Was there even a line? She’d think someone immeasurably old would be patient, but maybe that would have the opposite effect; maybe he was more irritable.
All she knew was that she didn’t know anything.
Watching his back as he walked ahead, as the gate opened without a touch, she tried to remember her life before him. It seemed so far away already! Lori the social worker, moving from foster home to foster home, the daily grind of public school, and it was all over in an instant.
The moment she passed back into the ‘real’ world she froze. One thing she’d forgotten, and how was that even possible?, were the Things. Gooey and black, inky and oozing and full of eyes. Roaming the land and not noticing her or him, but she certainly noticed them and all at once she felt drained.
He, Levi, it would take a while to get used to calling him by name, caught her before she fell. It was a dead faint.
“As you now know, I’m not infallible.”
She heard his sighed statement just before passing out.
∞
Emma didn’t jerk awake, there was no jolting upright. She woke and kept her eyes shut because she didn’t want to see any more of the phantasmic creatures.
“There’s nothing for you to see here,” his voiced sounded, softly, to her left. “I’m sorry, I should have realized.”
With great trepidation she blinked away the darkness. The light was low and natural, diffused by drapery and emanating from a window behind her.
She didn’t know the room and didn’t think it was part of his house. The feeling of it was all wrong. White walls, white tile floor. It reminded her of a doctor’s examination room. Normally that would be cause for near panic from her, terrible things hung around in doctor’s offices, hospitals were even worse, but as Levi said there was nothing to see.
Ease of mind wasn’t readily available, but she wasn’t petrified.
“What happened?” It was hard to find her voice and hardly a whisper.
“You were overwhelmed. A day or two away from the world, but reintroduced too abruptly. You spent time the way most people do, not seeing the things you see, and in an enhanced environment. Compare it to going, without proper preparation, to the height of Mt. Everest from your normal altitude. A clumsy equivalence, but you should understand.”
She released a breath and asked, “Where is this?” It seemed all she did with him was ask questions; she wondered if that would ever change.
“This is the home of the person I meant us to visit. Her name is Olwen and what she does is closer to what you mean when you think of ‘magic’. Technically younger than you I believe and not close to my age.”
As he finished speaking the one Emma assumed was Olwen entered. She was unlike any person she’d ever seen. She didn’t have the weight to her, incorporeal though it was, that Levi did. Instead, she was fragile, or so it seemed, and her countenance was gentleness personified.
Emma realized she could never be nervous about her, it was impossible to be afraid, even if she posed an actual threat.
Her small smile in Emma’s direction was brief, but heartfelt, and her words were spoken to Levi. “How could you be so careless?” If she meant to sound harsh, as her frown suggested, then it was a failure; her voice was too soft to be frightening. “For all your years-”
“I’m not perfect,” he didn’t have any shame in admitting it, Emma noted. Stated it as fact. “And I don’t often need to think of others.”
“Well, you’d best get used to it.”
Emma wasn’t expecting it when he reached over and took her hand, the gesture was so sweet and foreign to her. “I’ll have forever to learn.”
“Hmm,” Olwen eyed the display, his right atop Emma’s left. “As long as the feeling is mutual. Is it?” Her question was sharp and the girl blinked in response.
Levi’s hand tightened as the silence stretched. Emma knew she needed to say something, but what? She was undeniably attracted to him and didn’t have any desire to run away, so, “Yes?” She knew her answer wasn’t confidently delivered and Olwen didn’t look appeased as she turned to him again.
“She doesn’t know anything. You’ve pulled her in and she doesn’t know any-”
“There is no one else for her.” His answer was direct and unsympathetic and true, Emma knew it was true, but he didn’t sound concerned by it at all. Like there was no chance for her outside of himself.
And he was right, wasn’t he? She’d always known she couldn’t be with people, they didn’t want to be around her, and she didn’t want to see what was hanging around them.
Olwen looked to her and said, “He’s not the only person in the world like him.” The woman moved a step and put a hand to Emma’s cheek. “There are others who aren’t repelled, they just aren’t easy to find.”
∞
Levi wasn’t happy, he was exuding ill humor and even as they left the small recovery room for the more welcoming sitting area, still within Olwen’s property, he continued to close in on himself. It was difficult to discern, but Emma remembered how free he was the night before, that morning, and this was the polar opposite.
He didn’t like Olwen informing for her, and demonstrating, the fact that he wasn’t the single person who could be okay around her. Emma wasn’t even sure how she felt about the revelation; no part of her was ready to meet a whole group of strangers. Even Olwen was suspect. She was still getting used to Levi and his ‘magic’.
Emma had the distinct impression that she wasn’t allowed to talk to Olwen, or maybe she wasn’t allowed to talk to her, because she didn’t see the woman again before they left. Now, Emma carried a paper bag, like the kind they didn’t use in grocery stores anymore, full of oddits and baubles. Books and jars. She didn’t know what it was all for and Levi wasn’t inclined to speak.
He wasn’t too happy with her either and that infringed on the gentlemanly demeanor. He walked ahead, not far but still, and paused for a moment when she took notice of a pair of boots in a fall display window.
Emma rarely noticed things like that because it didn’t matter how much she liked them, she wasn’t going to have them. She didn’t have money and decided she’d have to work online someday, solitary and making enough to get by. Data entry or something similar
.
So she didn’t ask for them, she wasn’t sure if that was appropriate anyway, admired them for a second and then moved on, following Levi to the car. They’d driven to the city, though she’d been knocked out for the hour’s journey.
He didn’t say a word the whole way and neither did she.
She wasn’t mad, rather confused on a basic level. The things stayed away, by and large, she attributed that to his presence, and she wasn’t feeling faint anymore, but once again her world was knocked sideways.
He left the car outside the gate, why she didn’t know, and they returned to the house on foot. Immediately upon stepping onto the property the sense of ‘magic’ returned full force.
Olwen’s house gave off a kindred feel, nowhere near as powerful though. That was one more thing to add to the list of the inexplicable.
If he’d meant for her to learn something from the visit then his plans were foiled; she didn’t understand anything. She didn’t know how he did what he did, didn’t know what Olwen did at all, and now he didn’t want to speak to her.
When they came to the house she noted a brown paper package on the doorstep, tied with a seasonally suitable orange ribbon and decorated with a cut stalk of wheat.
“That’s yours to open,” he said, lifting the bag from her, entering the house as the door swung.
She remained outside, sat on the little step and removed the covering. A shoe box was revealed, bearing the insignia of the shop she’d admired, and within were the shoes.
“How?” she asked, out of breath though she’d not had far to run. He was still in the entry hall. “Isn’t that steali-”
He interrupted her, calm as ever, “They aren’t stolen, they’re copied. Perfect replicas.” He didn’t look to her when he spoke and continued walking as he ended with, “Bring them inside, before the rain begins.”
She watched him disappear around a corner, wondered if she should follow. If she did, what would that mean?