Weeping Willow (Part One)

by Sandra Madera

  Glancing up at the setting sky, I clutched my arm tightly, willing the bleeding to stop. My leather jacket was ruined. It had been slashed by Callan’s sword.

  I should have known better than to fight in this world, being away from the source of magic made it harder for me to heal. My spells took longer the more time I spent in this realm.

  Anger rippling through me, I swore, cursing Callan and spitting on his name. He had gotten away from me, but I knew we’d meet again... and I’d have my revenge.

  Walking towards the manor on the hill, I had visions of how Willow would react when we laid eyes on each other once again. Would she scream or run? Would she accept who she was? Would she accept me?

  I couldn’t remember how I felt before her. Since her disappearance, I have been numb to anything but anger. She was the best of me. I knew it!

  I knew such magic would have consequences. I accepted them without full comprehension, but if I had the choice again, I would change nothing.

  She was my other half. Where my soul was cold, hers was filled with warmth. Where my heart was filled with darkness and hatred, hers was filled with beauty and love. It would be wonderful to feel those feelings again. My cold heart couldn’t comprehend the meaning of such a union. I had been overcome with hatred when she was taken from me, and now something sparked within me that hadn’t been there all these years. Hope.

  * * * * *

  CHLOË:

  I awoke in my bedroom sometime during the night. Looking down at myself, I noticed that my mother hadn’t bothered to undress me before placing me on the bed. Still wearing my sneakers, I was thrown on top of my sheets haphazardly with my ankles hanging off the mattress.

  Sitting up, I felt light. My shoulders were lax, and my movements felt effortless. Smiling, I buried my head in my hands, feeling somewhat euphoric. I knew I should’ve been worried. I knew I should’ve been scared. Someone was after me; yet, against my better judgment, I could hardly acknowledge such feelings.

  How had she done it? How had my mother put me to sleep when I was on the verge of hysterics? Was I just exhausted?

  Glancing up, I noticed my window was ajar. Feeling the chill of the night on my skin, I quickly rose to my feet, stretching my limbs as I made my way to the window. Closing the window forcefully and locking it shut, I momentarily stared out into the moonlit night.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow shift to my left, huddling in a dark corner of my room. Surprised, I jumped back, forgetting my former state of euphoria, curving my back like an angry cat. “Who is there?” I asked shrilly.

  With my eyes straining in the darkness, I watched as a figure came forward from the shadows and into the moonlight that filtered in from my windows.

  Awareness shifted into my consciousness as I recognized my intruder. It was the biker I had seen in the alley. His jacket was torn. He gripped his left arm as blood dripped down, landing on the wood floor with a splat. His porcelain skin appeared gray in the moonlight, lending to his unearthly appearance.

  I gasped, ready to scream for my mother.

  Without warning, he shot forward at me, pushing me up against the wall with one hand and covering my mouth with the other. “Don’t scream,” he ordered hoarsely, his lips close to my ears.

  I nodded, remembering that this man had risked his life for me a few hours earlier.

  His breathing haggard as he removed his hand, shifting to lean his sleek body against the wall for support.

  Glancing momentarily at my bedroom door, I wondered if my mother had heard the commotion inside my bedroom. When she didn’t knock, I knew she must have been sleeping deeply. “You’re bleeding all over my floor,” I whispered to him, stating the obvious.

  With his deep, blue eyes were trained on me, he slid down the wall slowly until he was sitting on the wooden floorboards. “Sorry,” he said with a humorless laugh. “I’m trying to... heal.”

  Without thinking, I stepped towards my bed, grabbing my sheet. I ripped it apart. Returning to him, I spun the torn piece of cloth over his wound, using it like a tourniquet. “What can I do?” I asked, unafraid. Despite the strangeness of our initial encounter and the awkwardness of this meeting, I felt indefinably comfortable in the stranger’s presence.

  As I crouched by him, he lifted his hand and touched a few strains of my silky, black hair. “You are already doing it,” he replied, seeming to drink in every detail of my appearance as if trying to etch my image in his memory.

  “I haven’t done anything yet,” I told him, wondering if he was in the first stages of shock. “I have a first-aid kit somewhere. I will be right back.”

  I began to rise, but he pulled me back to him. “Don’t go,” he said, appearing drained.

  Nervous under the weight of his stare, I averted my eyes. “The tourniquet will stop most of the blood, but not all. I can’t have you bleeding to death on my floor.”

  “I can heal,” he told me adamantly, his gaze intense and unwavering. “But it will take longer in this world.”

  Worried, I gave him a sidelong glance. Don’t people start to talk gibberish before they lose consciousness?

  “I’ll explain everything to you, Willow,” he said as if he could read exactly what I was thinking from the expression on my face. “But you must come with me.”

  I shook my head. “My name is Chloë,” I told him silently. “I can’t go with you. I don’t even know you.”

  “You know me better than you think. All will be revealed, but it’s not safe for us to talk here,” he said, taking my hand in his and using the other to remove blue powder from the pocket of his jacket.

  I resisted, glancing back at my bedroom door as if expecting my mother to burst in. “But―”

  “You can stay here, and I’ll bleed to death on your floor. Or you can come with me and find out who you really are,” he told me seriously, holding my hand firmly in his. “The choice is yours. We can stay here or we can go, but I’m not leaving you.”

  * * * * *

  NALIN:

  “How long will this take?” she asked me after a long moment of silence.

  “Time is relative,” I answered, starting to sprinkle the blue dust I had removed from my jacket along the edge of the wall. “One year here can be hundreds over there or a month over here. Or no time may pass at all.”

  “Are you trying to confuse me?” she asked, sounding a bit annoyed with me.

  I glanced at her. “I am trying to answer your questions to the best of my ability,” I said matter-of-factly.

  I could feel the energy change around her and anger seeping into her soul. “I just want straight talk. Who are you? Why was the other guy after me? And what does my mother have to do with it? Until I get answers, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Angered by her defiance, I swiftly turned on my heel to face her. Within seconds, my anger dissipated, and I was swimming in the depths of her stare, running my blood stained hand across the line of her jaw. She didn’t flinch. Her wide, blue eyes continued to stare up at me questioningly. “All will make sense soon, but it is not something I can just tell you. I have to show you as well,” I told her, sending calming energies though my touch. I was aware that such energy shifts were possible when we were in close proximity to one another, but I knew it could be controlled. She could learn to control the angry feelings I emitted as I could channel the peaceful energies she transmitted. “I promise that you will always be free to return.”

  She nodded, appearing a bit more serene than she had a few seconds earlier.

  “Lock your bedroom door,” I ordered, not wanting to face a confrontation with her caretaker.

  I whispered the sacred words, and before long, the doorway I had summoned appeared in the wall. I stared at it, recognizing the rounded, double doors that shone with the magic of my kind. It was constructed from rich wood and iron. Its frosted windows were covered with swirled iron work that appeared like vines. Sparkling blue light emerged from beneath the door, offering a glimp
se of the magic on the other side.

  Willow let out an audible gasp.

  I held out my hand for her. “Do not fear, my love,” I told her. “This is how we must travel.”

  She took my hand without question, and we entered the doorway, closing the portal behind us with the slamming of the door.

  * * * * *

  CHLOË:

  In awe of everything around me, I walked into the room which was lit by beautiful torches of blue fire, casting the room in a dim glow that was utterly magical. The room had twelve foot cathedral ceilings and wood wall panels constructed of rich mahogany. Beneath my beat-up sneakers were white marble floors. Two stately chairs flanked a carved mahogany table. My hands ran along table top which was covered with ancient books, scrolls, and other knick knacks.

  At the edge of the table stood an hourglass that was constructed solely from sculpted glass and seemed to magically remain level on its rounded bottom. I bent my body forward toward it, leveling my line of vision. Filled with purple sand, I noticed that the sand fell continually, but the top of the hourglass never emptied. It seemed to have enough sand to go on forever.

  Glancing back at the door, I realized it had vanished. Feeling betrayed, I faced my captor who already had his hands up in submission. “Where is the door?” I demanded.

  “There is a door in this room, but it masks itself as an ordinary object,” he explained calmly. “I just want to make sure that you don’t leave before I can tell you everything.”

  I nodded, continuing to explore.

  I took note of a restroom to my left, but it didn’t interest me. Glancing back at the table, I noticed that to the right of the table stood a rounded, floor length mirror which was encased in an oak frame. There were intricate carvings of vines encircling its frame. I stared at my reflection, surprised by the vivid color of my eyes. Instantly, my hands reached my face as if checking to see if I was seeing my true reflection.

  “That is how your eyes appear in our world,” I heard my companion tell me.

  I continued into the room and saw a four-poster bed. Each column of the bed frame was carved like vines reaching upward to the sky. There must have been thirty pillows on the bed that were covered with fabrics of every color and trimmed in gold thread. The nightstand contained an unlit, silver candelabra and a small, circular compass at the foot of the candelabra. I watched as the needle zipped around the dial, looking for north and never settling on a clear direction.

  I turned to him, watching him as he perched himself on the edge of the wooden table. “So, what world are we in where compasses can’t find north and hourglasses never run out?” I asked, folding my arms as I joined him at the table.

  Leaning my bottom against the table, I felt my heart speed up within my chest. I was inwardly conflicted between wanting to be near him and wanting to flee. I shook my thoughts out of my head, knowing I needed to hear everything he had to say with a clear mind.

  “We are in the In-Between,” he answered, his voice appearing to resume its original richness. He had a charming accent I hadn’t recognized earlier. It reminded me of something. Continuing to take in his appearance, I noticed his complexion seemed improved as his color was slowly returning to him. “I didn’t want to take you to my world without an orientation.”

  Feeling a hint of elation, I knew I was on the cusp of something big. “What is your name?” I asked innocently.

  He smiled, seeming to be surprised that I cared to ask.

  “It is just that I don’t remember you mentioning your name before.”

  “Nalin,” he answered, the hint of a smile playing on his full lips.

  I repeated his name softly. “I like that. Does it have a meaning?”

  He nodded. “Among my people the names you give the young hold great importance. A name must summarize their connection with nature or a quality of significance,” he told me, looking at me admiringly. “Nalin means lotus flower.”

  “Lotus flower?” I questioned, laughing a bit. “You don’t seem to be the lotus flower type.”

  He averted his eyes shyly before they returned to mine with increased intensity. “The lotus flower is considered one of the most beautiful flowers in our world. Besides that it holds a hidden meaning. A type of symbolism for my people,” he said, glancing down at his arm and removing his leather jacket.

  I was shocked to see the whole left side of his white T-shirt was saturated with red fluid I recognized as blood. His skin was stained with it. It made me sick that I hadn’t realized how much fluid he had lost. Feeling on the verge of tears, I throw my arms around him, breathing in his natural sweet scent mixed with the metallic stench of bodily fluids.

  For the first time, I noticed that he removed the makeshift tourniquet I had made. Without thinking, I ran my fingers softly across his wound which had already clotted and was almost completely healed. I was in shock and perhaps a bit scared. In that moment, I knew that everything Nalin was about to share with me was real. Whether I wanted to hear it or not, I knew it was going to be the truth.

  “I want to know about you, Nalin. Where do you come from?” I asked, pulling away finally. I didn’t fully understand my behavior. I had never felt so drawn to someone before. I was so used to rejection by my peers and here was someone who wanted to share a bit of himself with me. Suddenly, for the first time, I felt a warm sense of comfort as if someone cared. “Tell me about your world.”

  “It would be less of a shock if I showed you what I can do,” he told me.

  I nodded in response.

  His eyes shifted to my neck. “You are not wearing the necklace,” he said, his finger gently grazing the nape of my neck.

  Electricity traced through me. “My mother destroyed it,” I told him, suddenly embarrassed that I melted under his touch. “I don’t really know why she would do such a thing.”

  “I can fix that,” he said smoothly, taking the hourglass from the table into his hands and admiring it. He rose from his perched position and turned around to face me, “This hourglass is filled with small pieces of amethyst.” He held it up to the light, watching its contents sparkle like fairy dust. Without warning, his body tensed, and he struck the hourglass on the edge of the table, shattering the top half.

  I jumped at the force of his actions. For the first time since the alleyway fight, I could see the swiftness of his power. “What are you doing?”

  Ignoring me, he poured the contents of the hourglass onto his hand and cupped it with the other. “Veneficus est in mihi quod per mihi,” he whispered under his breath.

  Blue light emanated from his hands as he made a mashing motion with them. Within seconds, the light evaporated, and he lifted his hands up toward me. He removed his top hand and uncovered an amethyst crystal similar to my original one.

  “How did you―” I started, reaching for the crystal out of his palm and held it out into the light. “It looks just like the one I had.”

  He nodded. “I know,” he said, watching my reaction with some joy. “I made the original one.”

  My head swung upwards, meeting his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  He dove into his pocket and retrieved a ring with a matching crystal stone. It glowed as my necklace had the night of the dream. “My ring and your necklace are connected as we are,” he said, slipping the ring onto his pinky finger. “I made them both the night of your creation. My ring glows with your life force as your pendant glows with mine.”

  Looking at him, I told him, “I believe you.”

  He took the crystal from my hands and found a metal chain on the desk. With magic, he fused the two, creating a necklace. He placed it around my neck with little effort.

  I felt the necklace just below the nape of my neck and smiled up at him, filled instantly with happiness.

  “I am so glad,” he said, cupping my face with his hands. “I want to tell you everything. All I ask is that you hear me.”

  Feeling tingles under his touch, I shivered.

  “Our ki
nd has always been able to emit feelings through physical contact,” he said with a teasing smile. “I can make you feel as I do with a single touch.”

  I nodded, remembering how he had calmed me earlier with the touch of his hand. “Our kind? What are you, Nalin?” I inquired, feeling butterflies in my stomach. “What do you believe I am?”

  He turned away from me on his heel, walking towards a chair and pulling it in my direction. When he reached me, he extended his hand, offering me a seat. I sat in the chair, and he leaned on the table once again. “We are Elven,” he responded without hesitation. “We belong to the seventh realm. The Realm of Magic.”

  “What is your world called?” I asked like the gullible little girl I was. I had seen too much already to question Nalin’s words. I knew with every fiber of my being that what Nalin told me was true.

  “Earth,” he laughed. “It is just another dimension which exists simultaneously to the Earth you live on. The reason I can make you that amulet and open doors to other dimension lies in the fact that I am a magical being by nature. However, as I spend more time away from the Earth of my dimension, I lose a bit of magic with every passing hour, because I am away from the source.”

  “What is the source?”

  “It is in the air.... It is in the water and ground. It is the essence of my planet,” he responded.

  “What do I have to do with a war?” I asked, without thought. “The man in the alley mentioned that it was my fault. That I started a war, but as far as I remember, I’ve never been to your Earth.”

  His eyes darkened with emotion as he slouched in his perched position on the table. “There has always been conflict between the two races, but your disappearance changed everything,” he said regretfully. “In many ways, I must take the blame for what occurred.”

  As a show of my understanding, I nodded for him to go on.