by J. L. Sutton
“I heard that,” Ivy’s high voice tinkled in the distance—just audible over the somber, moody melody filling the ruins from the high wall above us. Alex, who hadn’t uttered anything other than his one clipped sentence, was skillfully playing on an old blues harp.
I expected Dawn to be a little upset after Logan’s verdict, but she was putting on a brave face. The rigid atmosphere that colored the evening so far had all but dissipated in the wake of Sebastian’s indomitable enthusiasm, and honestly I thought Dawn and I both sorely needed a moment to relax, something to take our minds off of the last twenty four hours. Giving up on keeping track of Ivy and Sebastian I turned my attention to what was left of the fireplace in the corner, trying to imagine how this hidden place must’ve looked like when it was built.
“I understand the need for secrecy, but why come all the way out here? It seems like quite a detour,” I asked.
“Oh, it’s no trouble for us to get here,” Logan said, exchanging a meaningful glance with Dawn. It seemed Dawn was keeping something else from me. “And places like this allow us some measure of freedom to be who we are.”
Freedom, yes, between keeping all of their gifts in check and their unending duty I could see the need for that. Without warning Sebastian and Ivy appeared twenty feet behind Logan, Ivy’s tiny body mirroring Sebastian’s every move like a hungry predator circling her prey. He held his hands up defensively, still grinning and without any hint of fatigue. “Time out for a second, I just had an idea.”
Ivy sighed, her shoulders sagging as she straightened out of her half crouch. Still smiling, Sebastian turned towards Logan, dropping his guard just long enough for Ivy to pounce.
There was a dull crack as their bodies collided straight through the stone wall behind Sebastian, sending an explosive shower of dust and broken stone tumbling in all directions as the wall collapsed. The violent outburst happened so shockingly quickly I thought I imagined it. A heartbeat later Alex resumed playing, picking up where he left off like nothing of interest just happened. The dust still hung thickly in the air as Ivy came skipping through the rubble, the ribbon once again securely in her hair. She threw a sly wink my way as she plopped onto the floor next to Logan.
“That was a cheap shot,” Sebastian said as he stepped back into what was left of the building, his clothing dirty and disheveled, but otherwise there was no evidence to suggesting he was just forcibly thrown through a solid wall. Still grinning, he pulled up a chair next to Ivy and mussed her hair. “Vengeful little monster.”
“The original,” Ivy beamed.
Still half in shock I turned to Dawn who was watching me the whole time, silently gauging my reaction to her cadre’s antics. She smiled weakly, as if she was apologizing for their behavior, her wary look dissolving as I returned her smile. It took me a moment to realize the music stopped, and when I looked up to where Alex had was sitting I realized he was no longer there.
“Don’t mind Alex,” Logan said dismissively. “He’s—”
“—A grumpy bastard?” Sebastian offered.
“Yes, well, I suppose that’s as good a way as any to put it.” Logan shrugged.
When I saw none of the seraphim were bothered by Alex’s absence I figured he must’ve gone to perform some duty. Even in the dead of night the seraphim could be called. Not that I could really tell, but even he seemed to be enjoying himself. Being able to get away from the difficult path they all walked for just a few hours must be a welcome reprieve, although I imagined this wasn’t how all their meetings went. Even though I believed they were more or less themselves, which I liked, every now and then I would catch something that seemed out of place. Like the look Dawn and Logan shared earlier. I was starting to wonder just how much Dawn told them before we arrived, how much she wanted to keep hidden. None of the others seemed as inclined as her to hide what they were now that I knew about them. Why was she still trying?
“So like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” Sebastian began, eyeing Ivy with an amused expression. “Ivy was foolish enough to doubt I could ride a unicycle along the fence of that big dairy farm out in Pennsylvania with the twenty foot tall cow statue. You two want to tag along and win an easy bet?”
Dawn’s eyes darted towards me briefly, her expression unreadable. “It has been a long night, perhaps next time.”
Sebastian shook his head sadly. “You’re depriving poor Benjamin of a once in a lifetime opportunity here.”
Dawn shrugged casually, moving her body closer to me than usual, and whispered, “We should be heading back soon.”
Pulling back my jacket sleeve I glanced at my watch. Though I was only a little tired I had no idea so much time passed, so I nodded.
“Leaving already?” Sebastian asked lazily as Dawn and I got to our feet. “I was just about to come up with a way to make things interesting.”
“That is exactly what I am afraid of,” Dawn said, shivering in mock horror.
“It was good to see you sister. You don’t have to be such a stranger now that we all know each other,” Logan said, the authoritative tone returning in his voice. “Just remember—do not interfere.”
Dawn nodded seriously. “Understood, Logan.”
“And bring Benjamin with you next time.” Sebastian grinned at me. “I think things are going to be a lot more entertaining with you around.”
The walk back to the car felt longer than I remembered, though maybe it was just fatigue catching up with me. Dawn walked ahead in silence, maintaining an easy pace for me to follow. When we stopped so she could remove her broken twig from the neat line I noticed there was only four. Alex must’ve picked his up along the way.
“It’s a long drive home,” I said as we pulled onto the road. “I saw a motel just a few miles back, I think I should do the rest of the trip in the morning.”
“Sure,” Dawn said distractedly as she gazed out the window. There was definitely something weighing on her mind, and although I had a pretty good idea what it was I knew better than to ask. She would tell me in her own time, if I let her.
We arrived at the near vacant Old Inn twenty minutes later, neither of us having said a word since. It was a small motel, six square rooms in a row next to an office on the corner with an ice machine out front. Dawn waited in the car while I spoke to a sleepy eyed clerk, who seemed rather annoyed I interrupted the soap she was watching. After paying a reasonable amount she handed me a key with a plastic number three carved into it, warning me that I needed to jimmy the door before turning back to her show.
As I flipped on the light switch of my room for the night I heard Dawn fall into step behind me. The tiny room was painted in dull beige, the sunflower yellow wallpaper matching the sheets on the two single beds that filled most of the room. The glow from the neon vacancy sign shone through the half drawn curtains, bathing every surface in a soft bluish hue. Hardly a palace, but it was clean and comfortable. After a shower I found Dawn sitting with her legs drawn up on the bed closest to the window, her delicate shoulders rising gently with every breath.
“Are you sure this is what you really want?” she asked quietly as her eyes found mine.
So this is what’s been bothering her this whole time. As much as I appreciated the sentiment, I wasn’t a lost puppy. I could take care of myself. “No, it’s not what I want. It’s what I have to do.”
“That is hardly true, you know. It is not too late to change your mind, there is always a choice.”
“I’ve made my choice,” I said sternly, taking a seat on the free bed.
“Stubborn. As always.” She sighed. “Normally I would say it suits you, but I think this time you are making a mistake. Whether you want to admit it or not, I got you into this mess. I just want to make sure you are making this decision for the right reasons. The consequences Logan spoke of are very real. I have been around a long time Benjamin, regret is something that will stay with you until the end of your days.”
I hadn’t given much thought to the conse
quences—it wasn’t something that factored into my decision. They just didn’t seem like much of a deterrent. What could honestly change so drastically that would make me change my decision? I didn’t know, and if there really was something, then I didn’t want to know about it.
There was nothing but concern in Dawn’s eyes, which made it that much more difficult to argue with her. “I know you have my best interests at heart Dawn, but I made a promise to Claire and I’m going to keep it. Surely you can understand that?”
“More than you realize.”
I briefly considered asking her to elaborate on her cryptic comment, but I wanted to move away from the topic before she could throw any more platitudes my way. “Then let’s leave it at that.”
She was clearly not happy with her failed attempt to reason with me, but it looked like she would let it go—at least for now. The last thing I wanted was for her to become withdrawn again. It felt like a long time since we had a moment just to ourselves, and I didn’t want to waste that. Even after everything I still craved our shared companionship, and I thought she did to.
“What was the question you were expecting earlier, when I asked you to help me?”
“I . . .” Dawn paused, shifting her eyes to the window. “I thought you wanted to see her again.”
She thought I wanted her to become Claire? My stomach lurched, twisting into a tight, multi-corded knot. To see Claire standing before me again, a perfect replica that was, but wasn’t, her? Wasn’t it bad enough I was already developing untoward feelings for the seraph who took her? No, no matter how much I may have missed Claire the very idea made my skin crawl. Seeing her again would damn near kill me. The worst part was I knew Dawn would make the change if I asked her to. I had to swallow twice before I could speak again.
“I would never ask for that,” I said in a brittle voice, not sure whether I was assuring her or myself. “She’s gone. Anything else would be nothing more than empty artifice.”
Dawn nodded solemnly, turning her gaze to the neon sign.
Unfortunately my thoughts were now focused solely on Claire, and there was a question I just couldn’t get out of my mind since I learnt Dawn took her. Swallowing with some difficulty I turned to her. “What . . . What happens when we die?”
“I was wondering when you would ask,” she answered after a moment. “I am sorry to tell you, but I have no brilliant deduction or insight for you. It is a part of the process we are not privy too, and what little I do know for sure I cannot tell you.”
“One of your laws?” I asked.
“A . . . slight step further I am afraid. When I took my oaths, part of the process was binding certain knowledge to me. Because of that, I am physically incapable of saying the words to you, or any human, even if I wanted to.”
“Seems a little harsh.”
“Perhaps, but it is necessary sometimes.”
“Fair enough. I thought it was worth the try.” It was an eventful night, and we were already delving into difficult subjects, so what better time than now to ask something that was itching at me for weeks. “Could I ask you something personal?”
“You may.”
I ran my tongue along my teeth, deciding how best to ask the question. “I was wondering about the form you’re in now. Why do you choose to look like her, specifically?”
“Mostly for convenience, we usually aim for someone close to our own figures. It feels unnatural otherwise, and the less I have to change myself physically, the less taxing it is. Her name was Genevieve. She was someone I greatly admired, a woman who fought for women’s rights in the late nineteen century. I could not exactly change it while you did not know what I was, and when you finally found out, I thought you liked this form—so I kept it,” Dawn said, sounding a little embarrassed and she quickly added, “I could change it to someone else, if you would prefer.”
My tired mind was far from its sharpest after the day I had, so when the words spilt from her it took me longer than I was proud of to put it all together.
Her fascination with the little details of my life, the way she always seemed to give me what I wanted. All the nights I wondered why Dawn couldn’t seem to stay away from me, even though it went against her nature. All the things she said, the little slip ups—like this latest one.
I was an idiot.
How else could I have gone this long without realizing what was right in front of me? Her behavior stood out clearly now, because I was acting in a similar way. Could it be she had some glimmer of affection for me too?
I didn’t even know if she was built that way—we certainly never spoke about it before. This whole time I had convinced myself my feelings were misplaced, that my tangled mind was looking at something out of reach, simply because I couldn’t have it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick to assume. I think after everything I witnessed since I met Dawn I could safely say stranger things had indeed happened. What I did know was even if that was an option, now was not the time to explore it. Not even close. I wasn’t in a healthy place right now. Still, in my current state of mind, I couldn’t really blame myself for a moment of selfish weakness, could I?
“It doesn’t matter to me one bit what form you take,” My words sounded very mushy to me, but I didn’t care. Dawn probably knew it was the truth from reading my emotions, no point in trying to hide anything from her. “If it’s alright though, I would like to see what you looked like when you were alive.”
Though she nodded, Dawn seemed hesitant. Was she concerned I wouldn’t like what I saw, that all this time only served to build expectations? Perhaps it was a more personal request than I realized. She was deceptive by nature after all. Or maybe I misread everything, and she was just humoring me. She was so maddeningly complex, I found myself once again wishing I could see what she was feeling right now, the way she could with me. When her gaze met mine I smiled encouragingly, my anticipation forcing my grin wider as her body began to gently vibrate.
Minutes passed as we both lay on our separate beds, our fixed gazes on each other giving the illusion that there was no space between us. Dawn’s knees were drawn up into a tight ball, her right hand propping her head up in a way that made her hair spill across the pillow. It was longer than before, a dark, deep auburn that ran halfway down her back. Her slight build and skin tone were more or less the same, her delicate fame just as fragile. It probably made clothing options less of a hassle too.
By comparison, Dawn had a plainer face, a natural beauty that was subtly sophisticated where Genevieve’s was closer to the flawless face you expect to see on a billboard. Though to call the real Dawn anything other than absolutely gorgeous would be a terrible crime, there was no doubt in my mind she would’ve had a long line of suitors while she was alive. Tiny, almost imperceptible copper-gold freckles ran down from the bridge of her slender nose, spreading halfway across her wide cheekbones. Her small, thin pink lips were slightly uneven, the perfect curve of the top making the rounded bottom less pronounced. She was also a lot younger than I expected. Where the guise of Genevieve looked to be my age, Dawn was only nineteen when she became a seraph.
Though what I couldn’t stop staring at was her impossibly large eyes, that were, as ever, black as coal. They had just a hint of a wild look to them, their depths giving her youthful face an air of insight well beyond its years. Maybe it was the knowledge that it was the real Dawn, but somehow I think the way she looked suited the person I came to know.
While so many things about her changed it was still comforting to see the little bits of her I liked were still there, the things that made her Dawn. Like how her shoulders rose delicately when she breathed, the way that somehow her facial expressions looked exactly the same—down to the way her long, thin eyebrows arched when she was watching me.
“I can’t believe you made me wait this long. It was worth it.” I thought of so many different ways I could explain that without sounding like an adoring fool, but none seemed to sum it up as adequately. Even though she knew
how I was feeling, her answering smile lit up her face, a heady mixture of relief and embarrassment.
“Thank you,” she said in her exquisite voice, a high tenor laced with almost delicate sweetness. Though I should’ve known her voice wouldn’t be the same, it was still quite a shock to hear the difference. My husky voice was sandpaper rough against her angelic timber.
She was such a unique paradox—impossible power flowing through such a vulnerable frame, centuries of experience hiding behind the face of a nineteen year old girl. Everything about Dawn should turn me off the thought of wanting to run my fingers through her hair—from the fact that she was Death, to the thrumming pressure still very much present in my mind. Even the icy skin I wanted to touch was a danger to me, but looking at her the way I did now, with her smiling contentedly at me from her bed, I think I could look past it all. Maybe I had finally cracked. No, I definitely had. I found it difficult to force my mind back down to reality.
“So what happens now?”
“Now, you will need to be patient,” Dawn answered. “Believe it or not, I am far from omnipotent. There is no magic wand I can wave for the answers. I only have my memories to work from, and it will take some time to turn that into something tangible.”
“I can help,” I said, though in truth I wasn’t sure how I could. No matter how dedicated I was to finding Claire’s killer, there was no way I could allow myself to watch the memory of her life end through Dawn’s eyes. My nightmares were vivid enough. Until Dawn had a name for me there was nothing to work with, but I wanted to do something, anything to feel like I was making progress.
She shook her head firmly. “Not this time. I will keep my word, even if I have to scour the entire country face by face until I do. For now you need to get some rest, and I have some work to do.”
Dawn was gone when I woke the next morning, my head dully throbbing from the lack of sleep. After a cold shower I made the long drive back to the city, using the time to sort through the memories of last night that were still fresh in my mind. Five seraphim, with five very different opinions on the course of my fate—if they didn’t have a definitive answer, then how was I supposed to know if I was making the right decision. I had always done what felt right to me, but this time I couldn’t begin to predict the consequences. Dawn’s concerns, more than the others, were starting to make me question my motives. Was I doing this for Claire, or for myself?