by Adams, Lori
“Oh.” I scramble to calculate if he’s right or not. “When did you start counting?”
“That night in the courthouse when you went all Jezebel and jumped out the window.”
I fold my arms and give him a snarky look. “Jezebel? Really? That’s what we’re calling it? I thought maybe it was the night I went all in and called your bluff.”
Michael grasps my chin and gazes deep into my eyes. He is serious and calm. “I don’t care what you call it. Just remember it was the night you became mine. Do you understand, Sophia? You are mine.”
My tummy shivers because that’s the sexiest thing I have ever heard. Michael Patronus, guardian angel extraordinaire, said I was his.
I throw my arms around his neck, and Michael wraps me in his arms and lifts me up.
“I take it that you do understand?” he asks, and I whimper “Yeah” into his warm neck.
He walks to the sleigh with me dangling against his body and then sets me aboard. There is a plaid blanket and a thermos of hot chocolate waiting. The horse has a string of bells attached to his white tail.
“You know, people write songs about this kind of stuff.” I laugh and pat the horse’s rump.
“His name is David,” Michael says, and I say, “Hello, David.”
Michael watches me, evaluating my reaction to it all. He’s always curious to know if he has done the right thing—the right human boyfriend thing. For all his confidence in the supernatural area and his recent claim on me, Michael still has doubts. Which only makes him adorable in my book.
“Okay?” he asks.
“Perfect.” I smile.
“Good, then stop looking at me like I’m some adorable kitten. Trust me, being adorable is the last thing I have in mind.” He snaps the reins, and we take off with my mouth hanging open.
Michael relaxes and sits back, wrapping an arm around me. I snuggle beneath the blanket and stare ahead as we glide smoothly over the gleaming snow. I’m trying to find a safe place in my head for his comment, but it’s like a labyrinth up there.
David trots and the bells jingle. The air is frigid as it dances across my face, insisting that I taste its coldness on my tongue. If snowfall had a sound, it would sound like bells, God’s saltshaker tapping down grains of Heaven. Being from Southern California, I was surprised to learn that snow had a fragrance. But it’s not altogether unfamiliar. I remember Armaros, the frosty guy I first met in the library basement and then again at the Borderland with Mom. He smelled just like our recent snow squall.
Armaros has always been a curious thing for me, but since Michael doesn’t like to talk about him, I keep the memories to myself.
We slide into the forest, making our own path. Patches of black and blue flash on and off as we sail in and out of clearings. We turn right at a huge boulder covered with a pad of snow like an old man’s toupee. A long river gleams before us, a sapphire ribbon under the moon. Like everything else, it’s frozen and still.
I notice the first lantern perched on a rock next to the river. It’s exquisite and unique, like some handblown European glass set adrift in an ocean of cream. I sit forward and “Oooo” at it. The lantern’s light is red but shines purple under the blue moon.
I see the next lantern as we climb higher. And then the next and the next. We follow a trail of glowing purple lanterns like crumbs in the forest until we round a corner and they appear all at once in a glorious display up the side of a cliff.
It’s looming and flat as though sheared in half during the ice age. High in the center is a giant waterfall that pours into a long, vertical drop. It’s milky white, unmoving, and completely frozen. Snow has found places to land on each side of the frozen waterfall. It drapes over lumpy boulders, towering pines, and stubborn brush born in crevices. Tiny purple campfires nestle on every available ledge, because Michael could not leave well enough alone. I imagine him climbing up and meticulously placing each lantern for maximum effect. He has succeeded; it’s beauty repeated over and over.
The sleigh eventually stops, and I jump to my feet, gaping up in wonder. Mounds and mounds of water have frozen over the steep cliff top in bluish white ripples and stopped as though someone hit the Pause button. Thin ribbons of water have halted progress and become jagged stalactites suspended above a wide pool. Time is standing still because some winter witch has cast a spell against Mother Nature’s decree that all waterfalls must drop. It’s breathtaking. I’m speechless.
Michael hugs me from behind and murmurs, “I knew you’d like it.” Words are not necessary. I shake my head in wonder. I’ve never seen anything so amazing, and he knows it.
Michael laughs and hops to the ground. “Come.” He lifts me out of the sleigh to stand beside him. “I learned something today that I’d like to try.” He holds out his hand. “Trust me?”
I give him a look that says, Do you really need to ask?
“Good,” he says and leads me to the edge of the deep pool at the base of the waterfall. It’s frozen, too, and I can almost see our reflections in the mirrorlike surface. Michael puts a lantern in my hand and steps away. He blows into his hands like they’re cold and then rubs them together, his eyes never leaving mine. Michael’s hands aren’t cold—this is T-shirt weather to him—so I know he is gearing up for something. I’m nervous. The last time I saw this look, fetching appeared along his forearms, and he took me flying over Haven Hurst.
“Take a closer look,” he says, nodding at the frozen waterfall. I frown suspiciously at him and then turn and look up.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever—whoa!” I’m slowly lifting off the ground. My head whips around and I see Michael, standing with his right arm pointed in my direction. He’s staring with serious concentration as he levitates me.
Okay, so he doesn’t always want to do the human boyfriend thing.
“Michael!” My voice is wobbly like my body, and my free hand flails. The other grips the lantern for dear life.
I rise higher and higher, gliding over the pool that looks dark with a layer of crystal frosting from this angle. Up I go, toward the waterfall as though I’m drawn by the water itself. Because I know all things are made to fall, I’m afraid. A terrified sound I’ve never heard before escapes my mouth. I wish Michael was with me but he remains where I left him.
The pressure of his meditation finds the deepest part of me and denies gravity its job, lifting and pushing and maneuvering me higher in the air. I come to a stop, hovering before the cliff where the river tips over and becomes the massive waterfall. Layers of thick frozen water glow purple in front of my lantern.
“Do you see them?” Michael calls up, and I try to twist around and look at him but can’t.
“What?” I wail.
“Look! In the water!” he yells, and I raise the lantern and squint in the murky light.
Vague outlines appear in the frozen water. Sticks, leaves, various debris, and fish. Lots of fish with their eyes bulging and mouths open.
“Holy crap!” I holler down. “It’s like they’re petrified!”
Michael turns me around to face the wide expanse of countryside behind me. Lights twinkle in the distance, and the dark sky goes on forever. My lungs fill with cold dry air, and I look down at him. He is smiling so I laugh.
“This is pretty cool but why didn’t you just fly us both up here? Two is better than one, you know?”
“Because I really wanted to do this.” He moves his arm to the left, and I zip across the air toward a patch of snow-covered trees.
“Ahhh!” I scream and crash into the softness. I don’t fall but spiral around as snow rains down. I burst out laughing and accidentally drop the lantern. It sails into a snow bank and disappears. “Again!” I yell, and Michael flings me back across the clearing and into bushes protruding from boulders. I feel like a marionette, with Michael pulling the strings.
He tosses me in the air, doing flips and spins and dangling me upside down. I fear we’re pushing our luck and gravity will event
ually demand to be obeyed, but Michael is relentless. He sends me to the top of the hill, skirting me across the snow until my boots skim the surface like I’m snowboarding. Down into nature’s half-pipe and then back up, high into the air in a double backflip. I cry out, arms flailing, but I never lose balance because the puppeteer is in control.
I drop fast, zooming at an arc to slide across the crystallized pool on my butt. I fly down the frozen river, hitting a few mild waterfalls, and bouncing along on my bottom. I’m laughing so hard that my tears are running horizontal from my eyes. Six Flags never had a ride like this!
I shoot down the river, hit the next waterfall, but take flight instead of dropping. Michael is returning me to the top of the cliff. I hover over the deep pool with my arms straight out and slowly rotate a three-sixty. A cold breeze ruffles my clothes and lifts my hair. Twice, I turn a full circle before coming to a stop on the ledge of the waterfall. He has set me down on a particularly lumpy chunk of ice, and I squirm to get comfortable. I’m panting great swells of fog. I look down at Michael, his arm still raised in my direction; he is the maestro, smiling in satisfaction at the end of a concert.
I hold out my hand, begging him to join me. Fetching fans out along his forearms, and then Michael drifts up the face of the cliff to sit next to me. Once he’s settled, the fetching retracts so it won’t cut me, and he slips his hand in mine; it’s warm and I snuggle closer.
“Thank you so much,” I say, breathlessly. My nose and ears feel red and frozen but I don’t care. Next to actually flying with Michael, that was the most amazing experience of my life.
“A bit of the local flavor,” Michael says, and tugs at my heart three times.
“I love you, too,” I say, and he winks.
Our legs dangle over the edge and we look out across the countryside. We’re so high up that the views go on forever. As far as the eye can see there is only white. Blankets, mounds, clumps, crevices, and valleys of white. If Heaven doesn’t look like this, they’re getting gypped.
“How is it that you just now learned to do that? I mean, I guess I thought it would come naturally, making people fly.”
“No, not naturally, exactly. You see, during a fight, guardians can hurl the enemy around, knocking them into things. Destroying them. With you, I was concentrating my efforts into a pinpoint target, making you rise and fall, turn and twist, as I wanted. I’ve never done it before. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Are you showing off?”
“Yup. Are you complaining?”
“Nope.”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to tell you.” Michael grows serious and clasps both of my hands in his. “Sophia, I made the winter trials.”
My heart stutters and I stare at him. I let it sink in for a moment, and then I throw my arms around his neck. “Oh, Michael! I’m so happy for you! You’ve waited so long for this!” I can’t believe it! He has finally made it!
I sit back and listen as he tells me everything: about the Halo Master elevating all the candidates, which gave him the idea to try it on me, about the storms and the lightning and the subzero temperatures. He endured terrible pain but he’s trying to play it cool. He managed far better than the others, and I can tell he’s proud. Michael impressed the Halo Masters and is ready for the next trial.
I smile and nod and realize—with a pang of guilt—that I’m jealous. Michael’s dream is coming true, and I’m plagued with doubts that I have somehow lost my chance to become a spirit walker. The idea nearly chokes me up, and my chin quivers. Michael stops talking. His face becomes still, and then he wraps an arm around me.
“I’m sorry, Sophia. I should’ve realized …”
I lay my head on his shoulder and sniffle. “It’s great, Michael. Really. I’m so happy for you, it’s just that … I’ve been waiting so long, too, with no word and—”
He strokes my head. “Babe, it’s probably for the best. I’ve told you before, this kind of stuff isn’t for everyone. Sometimes an Awakening just doesn’t come to fruition. It’s nothing personal.” I lift my head and give him a pointed look. “Okay, so it is personal. But there are a million reasons why it doesn’t advance beyond visions. Besides, you know I don’t want you involved in the spirit world. It’s too dangerous.”
This sets my teeth on edge, and I glare at him. “But it’s not your decision, Michael.”
He sighs in frustration; I am the broken record he can’t bear to hear again. We’ve been over this a hundred times before.
Michael looks out across the valley, lost in thought, and my shoulders slump. This is not how he expected the evening to go, and I feel bad. He has great news. We should celebrate. Which reminds me …
“So these Halo Masters don’t suspect anything about us? They don’t know you’re in love with a human?” This brings him around and he looks at me. His eyes are so beautiful and pale; the blue almost appears white beneath his thick black lashes. But he lowers his chin and gives me a heated look that sets the pale blue churning.
The change is even quicker this time, almost bypassing cobalt and flashing straight to indigo. Michael’s desire is palpable, and my whole body is responding. My second heartbeat drums feverishly and my tummy clenches. I’m aching with some strange, ethereal need. Michael pulls me onto his lap and looks deep into my eyes.
“They don’t know anything,” he murmurs seductively. “I’ve learned to harness my desire for you and use it for another benefit.” While he says this, he is unbuttoning my coat and sliding his hand inside my shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. I catch my breath, feeling my body grow warm beneath his touch.
We grin like lovers, and I realize this is what Michael wants, for us to be lovers.
I tremble from his effect on me, but Michael frowns and cocks his head. I know this look; he is sorting through my emotions, deciphering if I’m cold or nervous. I want it to be the cold but I know it’s the nerves. So many times I’ve thought about being with Michael, making love to him. Sometimes I imagine that we are just two ordinary people falling in love and expressing that love. It’s a beautiful thing.
But always I remember who Michael is and the caution we must take when kissing. Just kissing! I don’t know how dangerous it would be for Michael to make love to me. We’ve never talked about it.
Michael has made his assessment and withdraws his hand. He’s impossible to read but I feel his disappointment. He looks back at the view so I can’t see his eyes. I suspect they are returning to normal. I watch the lanterns flicker purple all around. It occurs to me that they match his eyes when he is aroused. I wonder if it’s a coincidence or Michael’s way of telling me something.
“You’re scared,” he says, still staring ahead. “You know I want to make love, and you’re scared.” He looks at me and knows. “You’re right. I do want you. And I don’t know what it will do to you if we make love. And you should be scared. I’m scared. But I still want you, Sophia. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
I’m nearly panting from nerves. Michael’s unrestrained honesty always astounds me, and I don’t know how to respond. My first instinct is to walk away and think, but I’m sitting on a frozen waterfall in the middle of nowhere.
I clutch my hands in my lap and stare at the tips of my boots. I wonder when things changed, when Michael became willing to risk my life to test the limits.
“Just so we are clear,” he says firmly. “We are going to make love, Sophia. But I’m willing to go slowly because you’re nervous. First things first. Yes?”
Go slowly? And just what does that mean? Slowly into dating? Slowly onto the bed?
“Stop dissecting everything I say,” he orders and then caresses my cheek. His eyes soften and grow darker. He stares at my mouth as he slides his hand into my hair, bringing me closer. He lowers his mouth onto mine in a soft but demanding kiss.
Mmm. My eyes close and I accept his warm, sensuous kiss. The familiar sparks ignite between our lips, and we turn our heads, breaking the connection befor
e deepening the kiss in the opposite direction. Over and over, we pull back, rotate, adjust, so the sparks don’t tap into my circulation and change the course of my blood.
Michael pulls me closer, sliding his mouth down my neck. He tugs at my sweater so he can reach Michael’s hollow, that tender place along my collarbone that he claimed as his. It’s where he likes to kiss and occasionally bite.
He turns my head aside, exposing my throat where he nips and bites. Waves of tingles flood my body, making me arch and press against him. Michael bites hard and sucks, and I feel my pulse gather in his mouth.
Oh, Lord! This is new!
I groan and he releases his bite, and a river of blood rushes into my head.
“Wow,” I whisper. “That was … strange and …” Michael looks down at me and, for a moment, I think one of his eyes has changed to dark brown. “What the …” I sit up and blink but it’s gone. Both eyes are the same again, and I think I’m losing my mind.
Michael asks what’s wrong but I can’t tell him. I don’t want him to worry that our kissing is making me imagine things. Besides, I can’t really be sure I saw anything.
“I’m fine.” I take a deep, calming breath.
He wraps an arm around me, rubbing my back. “Maybe this is too cold for you, after all.”
“But I’ve always longed to be a Popsicle.” I snuggle my frozen nose against his cheek. He grasps my chin, guiding me up to look him in the eyes. Michael is serious so I am, too.
“If we’re going slow at this, I suppose there is something I should ask you.”
“Yes?”
“Sophia, will you go to the Winter Carnival dance with me?”
I lean back and stare. I’ve heard everyone talking about this at school. It’s the biggest, most spectacular event of the year. Bigger than prom because it involves the entire town. It’s a black-tie, fancy-schmancy affair. I heard that the governor and a senator showed up last year. More important, it’s the only event that Michael’s parents attend.