by J. L. Sutton
Taking a deep breath I slowly opened my eyes, and turned to face her. Dawn was sitting thirty feet away on a sharp rock outcrop, staring out into the vast body of water just as I was a moment ago. I closed the distance between us, each step taking more effort than the last. As I stopped beside her I wondered just what my emotional state would seem like to her right now—I hadn’t the faintest clue myself.
“I did not think you would want to see me again.” Her voice was off, a mixture of regret and relief discordantly mingled. Even with how awful I knew she felt, the idea of parting ways seemed to be just as unwanted for her as it was for me. I highly doubted it was for the same reasons, but it wasn’t important now. I had higher priorities than figuring out my tangled, misplaced feelings.
“I just needed some time.” I was surprised by how well I managed to keep my voice level. She looked at me then, and as her dark eyes met mine they reignited the embers of last night’s crippling pain like flicking a switch.
“I have no words to describe just how sorry I am that all this happened. If I knew I took her, I would—”
I held up my hand to silence her. “It’s not your fault. You were just doing what you were meant to do.”
“No. I have caused nothing but trouble from the moment I met you. This is my fault. You should never have had to find any of this out to begin with,” Dawn said bitterly.
“I made the choice,” I said calmly. This was going to be difficult enough without her trying to blame herself. “And I don’t ever want to hear you say otherwise. We all have our burdens to carry, and this one’s mine.”
“How can you not think all of this was a mistake, that you would have been better off not knowing any of this?”
“I think if I could go back, I would’ve made exactly the same decisions. You can’t hide from something just because you don’t like where it’s heading.” It was who I was. One way or another I would’ve landed at the same conclusion eventually.
Dawn sighed. In a way it was almost comforting—as guilty as she felt, I think she desperately wanted to believe me. It would be a long while until we returned to the way things were before, but it would happen with time—I was confident of that.
“You have questions,” she said after a long moment.
Of course I had questions. There were so many I wanted to ask, all of them gnawing at me all through the night until I couldn’t bear to hear them rattling in my head. I promised myself one day I would ask those questions when I felt I was ready to know the answers, but before that day came I had another promise to make good on first.
“Just one,” I said, my voice low as I mentally braced myself for whatever came next. “I want to know who killed her.”
16. Cadre
“That was not the question I was expecting.” The resigned look on Dawn’s face remained unchanged as she dropped from her perch. Perhaps she hadn’t expected it, but she didn’t seem all that surprised by it either. Dawn was quiet for a long moment as her eyes brushed over the endless horizon. “Do you have any idea what you are asking of me? After everything I have done, all the damage I wrought, you want me to willingly change the course of your fate?”
“It’s my life Dawn.”
“It is not just you we are talking about here. If I give you what you are asking for, then his life will also be affected in ways even I could not begin to predict, along with anyone else that comes between you.”
“I don’t care what damage it causes to him, not after what he did!” I growled, barely keeping the anger rising up in me under control. I reined myself in with some effort, taking a deep breath before I spoke again. “All I’m asking for is to have a chance to right the wrongs, to have some measure of justice for Claire.”
“That is not your choice to make,” she said calmly. “I understand you have the right to feel the way you do. I would not have reacted any differently if I was in your position. You know I want to help you, but I have to look at this objectively. It goes against everything I stand for Benjamin, not to mention all the rules I would be breaking if I chose to help you. The consequences could be devastating.”
The truth of her words cut through my anger as easily as any knife. Perhaps I was too close to see this objectively. It wasn’t fair of me to ask this favor, because no one else had the same opportunity. After all, none of this was supposed to be known to begin with. But I did know, and I absolutely refused to believe what happened to Claire was fair either. I don’t care what Fate thought, she didn’t deserve to have her life so abruptly cut short. If it was wrong of me to think that, then I didn’t want to be right. I wasn’t going to stop searching until I did everything in my power to find the man who killed her. Claire deserved that much. Still, I could see the indecision in Dawn’s eyes, her genuinely wanting to help me warring with the duty she had to uphold.
Something else occurred to me at the same moment. As opposed to the idea as she was, Dawn hadn’t expressly refused either. “So then tell me no.”
Her obsidian eyes lingered on my face, piercing through me the way they did when I thought she was searching through my emotions.
“It is not that simple anymore.” She sighed heavily. “Which would be my fault, again.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have placed both of us in quite a predicament by spending so much time around you. Fate does not create new pathways to follow when it is interrupted. They were always there to begin with. When I interfere in your life the routes that could have been taken are cut off, narrowing the branches of possibilities, or making them disappear entirely. This path you are so determined to follow only exists because of my interference. I also know how resolved you are, I can feel it in your heart. If I do not give you the answer you want you will keep searching for another way. However, if I did tell you what you wanted to know it would only ensure you follow the same path without deviation. Either way my choice will affect your future.”
The bitter tone in Dawn’s voice was to be expected, she always feared something like this would happen right from the start. I didn’t blame her for it though, it was my choice to have her around. Maybe I couldn’t see the whole picture, but it sounded like good news to me. I was so much closer to getting the answer I searched for. So what if she interfered a little—changed something here and there? It wasn’t like an invisible hand was guiding me or anything. My choices were still my own, and nothing could take that away from me. I had to believe that. As for the mystery man’s choices, well . . . If I had my way, the only choices he’d have was to plead innocent or guilty.
“I see the problem,” I said neutrally. She already read my emotions like a sign, no point in sounding cautiously optimistic too.
“Things have gotten so far out of my control that I do not honestly know what the right decision is anymore,” Dawn said glumly, her shoulders slumping as she leaned against the rocks. “I would say I was sorry all of this happened, but I know you would try to argue with me.”
“Sorry I’m such a pain in the ass.” I smiled grimly. The atmosphere had become far too dreary. We both needed to take a step back for a moment.
Dawn managed a smile as she shook her head in exasperation. I took a seat beside her, using the silence to clear my head before she spoke again. “You are not going to budge on this, are you?”
“Not an inch. And as much as you want to help me, you don’t believe telling me is in my best interests. Not to mention everyone else that would be affected. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“So we’re at a bit of an impasse?”
“No. It is not just you. We are both too close to this.” She sighed, her head dipping slightly where it rested on her hands. “I was really hoping to avoid this, but I think it may be time we got an unbiased opinion.”
“From who?” I asked tentatively.
“The other seraphim of my cadre,” Dawn answered reluctantly.
She very rarely mentioned the others of her kind, and now she wanted their advice? This
must be more serious than I thought. “I thought they didn’t know about me. Wouldn’t that be tantamount to turning yourself in?”
“I should have done it a long time ago. Look at everything that has happened because I decided not to.”
“I don’t want you to be punished because of me.”
She laughed weakly. “You have no problem tearing apart the fabric of your own future, but you are concerned about the person who is to blame for it getting into a little trouble?”
“Yes,” I said stubbornly, folding my arms across my chest. “No matter what has happened, I still don’t regret any of this.”
I saw Dawn’s expression soften as she looked away, hiding something I saw glimmer in her eyes so quickly I thought I imagined it. Something she didn’t want me to see. “You have enough trouble looking after yourself as it is, and you have on more than one occasion told me I worry about you too much. So let me worry about me, okay?”
“Sounds fair.” I nodded stiffly, impressed by her quick recovery. “So you’re going to see the other seraphim?”
“Aye,” she replied thoughtfully, peeking at me through her hair. “I know it is a lot to ask of you after everything, but do you still trust me?”
“Surprisingly, I do.”
“Then you should probably come with me, if you want to. What they see might affect their decision, and we may as well get it over with on my terms before one of them comes looking for you out of sheer curiosity later on.”
I never thought I‘d get to meet another like her. The thought was both exciting, and a little terrifying. I knew Dawn would never let anything happen to me, but she seemed apprehensive. Was she afraid of what they would do once they found out? Then again I knew Dawn would follow whatever decision they made, and I wanted to be there to watch it unfold. Seeing those black eyes on another was quite a draw, almost intriguing enough to distract me from why I would be going in the first place.
“I’ll go.”
“I knew you would,” she said, lifting herself onto her feet with one hand. “Does tonight work for you?”
“I think we passed the point of me bothering to keep a schedule the day you climbed through my window.”
“Then we should be moving on. We have a long way to travel.”
We headed straight out of the city, Dawn’s directions taking us on the road towards Plymouth. As soon as we were clear of the tightly packed buildings and distractions she had her pendant in her hands and asked me to refrain from interrupting her. When I asked what she was doing all she said, rather ominously, was she was “calling the others”. Dawn didn’t breathe for almost an hour as we drove, and for a while the only sound for miles around was the swish of the odd passing car. I didn’t mind the silence. After everything that happened tonight, I needed some time to reflect. All this talk of fate had me seriously contemplating how much my life changed since meeting Dawn.
I had never seen someone sit so utterly still before. Her lips moved now and then, too quiet for me to make out if she was saying anything, but it didn’t look like words to me. I kept my eyes on the road, content for the moment that we were making progress. My chest still lit up with tiny puncture wounds every time I pictured her with Claire, but I also drew some measure of comfort from the thought. There was vibrant warmth to Dawn that I came to respect. If someone had to have taken Claire, then I think I would’ve wanted it to be Dawn.
“They are on their way to meet us,” Dawn said suddenly. Her eyes were finally open, staring out of the window so I couldn’t see her expression.
“You don’t sound very thrilled about it. This was your idea after all.”
“I am just a little anxious. I have no idea how well this is going to go,” she said quietly.
From what I was able to glean from my time with Dawn I knew what was about to happen was an incredibly rare occurrence. She also said before they weren’t all like her. Perhaps she was worried about their reaction? Or yours, a small voice in my head chimed in.
“Dawn, what’s a cadre?” I asked. While she was talking I better get whatever information I could.
“My cadre is the ‘family’ of seraphim I belong to. We always work closely together in groups of five to cover a specific territory. The actual area is unimportant—what matters is the amount of people inside it, so we cover everywhere equally. Some massive cities like New York would have many seraphim watching over it, because there are so many people living in close proximity. While somewhere rural we would be far more spread out.” She turned to me then, a weary look in her eyes. “That is why it was me who took her, and not another. Greystone is under my section of charges. No matter where I was in the world, if someone in my territory was about to pass on, I would get the vision.”
I was struggling to find the words to ask Dawn why it was her that took Claire. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her answer. After all this talk of fate, it seemed odd to have such a simple explanation.
She continued after a moment. “This seems a little late, but if it is any consolation to you she was not alone at the end. There was no one else around, so I kept her company, until . . . it was fairly peaceful.” Dawn paused, looking like she wanted to say more but thought better of it.
I nodded stiffly, not wanting to dwell on the topic of Claire’s death any more than I had to, and I certainly wasn’t going to ask about it. This was difficult enough just sitting here in the car with Dawn. I still needed time to process everything before I was ready to talk about Claire.
The seraphim were far more organized than I ever realized. It seemed like a very constricting system to me, but then again they had been doing it since before recorded history. What did I know? I was curious to find out more about their government, for lack of a better term, though it would probably be best for tonight to ask as few questions about them as possible. Stick to the basics, and learn from what I saw.
“We are not far now,” Dawn said after another ten minutes passed.
I peered through the darkness around me, and there wasn’t a light visible for miles around. I wasn’t exactly sure where we were, somewhere near the Connecticut border if I had to guess, but this was as close to the middle of nowhere as you were likely to get without crossing State lines. A mile or so later Dawn directed me to slow down as the road began to dip into a small valley. An old wooden fence ran along the edge of the road, broken and rotted away by time. Nestled at the bottom was a hidden dirt trail that led off into a thick copse of tall oak trees. I pulled the car over just out of sight of the road and killed the lights.
From the driver’s seat I could barely see past the end of the car. Following her lead I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed outside, taking a moment to stretch my stiff legs. Dawn was crouching over an assortment of broken twigs stacked in a line, far too neat to be there naturally. She leaned over, sniffing the air around the pile before picking up a nearby twig, running it along her forearm and placing it beside the others.
“What are you doing?” I asked curiously as I watched her bizarre display take place.
Dawn stood, motioning for me to follow her as she walked to a nearby tree. Her fingers brushed over the gnarled bark, revealing a strange, elaborate marking that looked like intertwined vines carved deeply into the wood. The mark wasn’t there before.
“We have symbols like this everywhere for traveling seraphim, just out of sight of human eyes. This one is for a place of meeting.” When she ran her hand over it again the symbol disappeared. “The twigs on the floor each carry one of my cadre’s scents. Traditionally, it is a sign of trust, to let me know who is here before I arrive, or to warn me of unannounced visitors. We are very wary when it comes to encroaching on others territory.”
I touched the spot where her hand brushed over. The bark where the symbol was carved felt good as new. Creepy, but definitely a useful skill. I just shook my head. “Lead on.”
“In a minute, there are some things we need to go over first. While I am not expecting any problems with your safet
y, you should still be cautious. I am hoping my cadre will be on their best behavior, but you need to understand they are not all like me.”
I wasn’t naïve enough to not be on my guard. Dawn’s constant warnings since we met hadn’t gone unnoticed. “I get it. You’re not the most dangerous thing around tonight.”
“You will be safe,” Dawn vowed.
“I don’t doubt it for a second.”
“Just be respectful and you will be fine. I know you are not bound by the decisions that will be made here tonight, but it would be wise of you to look like you accept them, even if you do not agree. Also, I may be punished for my involvement in this, and I need you to promise me you will not interfere. Can you do that for me?”
It was something I wasn’t sure I could promise. I didn’t think she deserved to carry any of the blame for this. Still, I wanted to respect her wishes, so I nodded tensely.
“One last thing,” Dawn said seriously. “Under no circumstances are you to mention anything true about yourself. Tonight your last name, where you live, what you do or anything that could be used to find you does not exist. You are just Benjamin. It is just a precaution, but I want them to know as little about you as possible. Some of my family members can be . . . persistent.”
There seemed to be a hidden meaning in her words, something she was dreading. I guess I was about to find out. “I can do that.”
We cut through the dense thicket towards the top of the valley, the climb in pitch black darkness steadily growing steeper, and before long the trail quickly disappeared amongst the undergrowth. If I hadn’t been following in Dawn’s footsteps I would’ve gotten myself lost twenty feet in. After a while the trees began to thin around us, gradually opening up into a natural glade where the moonlight shone through, and it became a little easier to see the tranquil scene in front of me. Growing up in the city I wasn’t used to wide open spaces. The crisp air and unbroken silence was daunting, yet also calming.
Before long I began to see a large mass in the distance, the shifting light of a small fire making the outline indistinct. As we got closer to the light, the solid shadow melted away to reveal a manmade structure that looked to be a farmhouse. Well, it used to be anyway. What little was left of the high stone walls and bricked pathway was crumbling away, lost long ago to the ravages of time. Thick vines sprouted through the crevices wherever they found purchase. The roof was non-existent, only a decaying wooden crossbeam that hung loosely over the entrance remained. Whispers echoed from within, the broken building warping the words as they travelled towards us.