by S. L. Naeole
Finally the rumbling ceased, the water having calmed down. Slowly, Robert eased his wings apart. He lowered me gently to the ground, careful of my now blistering leg, and I exclaimed quite loudly, “Holy crap!”
The lake had calmed down considerably, though the surface still rippled as millions of tiny bubbles burst through, but the water was no longer a brilliant green. An island that had not been there moments earlier now floated at its center like a crown, its bank lined with trees so tightly grown together that they weaved into a dense wall of bark and leaves, their tops bowing in at such a sharp angle, I was certain no light could pass through.
A curtain of silvery moss, dripping with muddy water, lifted as though it were being pulled away, revealing a narrow entrance, what lay beyond it dark and foreboding.
“What is that?” I breathed as I limped closer.
“Sanctuary.”
“What?”
“It’s where angels come to be alone. Once inside, no one else can enter until we leave, and no one but those that live here may enter.”
“But you don’t live here,” I reminded him.
He chuckled and shook his head as he lifted me into his arms, floating the short distance to the island. “Not anymore. But at one time, this was where we lived. The simplicity of the trees and the sky was all we needed; we had no humans to fool, no false lives to live here. It was the only place that ever truly felt like home. You’re the only person I have ever brought here.
I hobbled towards the moss curtain, my shoes sticking in the wet surface of the soil. “Why?”
“Because now I know that home can be more than just a place. It can also be a person, a heart. I’ve found my home in you. And this is the last part of me that I’ve kept from you.”
“But why turn me here?”
His mouth turned down at the corners, the frown disconcerting. “Because each person is different. When a human is turned without permission, the results are almost always disastrous, but the actual turning feels like sleep. It’s that ease of transition that makes it so desirable to those who do not understand the consequences.
“When a human is turned with the blessings of the Seraphim, however, the transition is powerful, almost violent. If you remain awake through it all, you will feel surges of strength through your body that you won’t be able to control as your human self dies and your immortal self is born.
“I want to protect you as much as you’ll let me, Grace—if this is what you truly want.”
I looked at the dark opening and then into the silver light of Robert’s eyes. I knew that my path lay with him, no matter where it led, and so I offered him my hand, sighing when he took it gladly and followed him past the moss curtain. As always, currents of feeling, emotion, and thought ran through us, the connection between us only growing stronger as our time together grew shorter.
Robert’s face grew pained as he heard my thoughts, and it hurt me to see that. I didn’t want to cause him any pain—it was why I had chosen this. I just couldn’t deny the fact that it didn’t matter what my decision was; someone was going to end up losing everything, and the consequences would be great.
As Robert slowly pulled me into the darkness of the trees, I stopped for one moment to take a last look at the world that I had known as a human for the past eighteen years. I stared at the sky, the sun heading ever westward, afternoon slowly approaching dusk. Would it look different when I returned? Would it look more brilliant than it already did? I gazed at the ordinary looking willow tree, with its leaves hanging low over the water, the gnarled trunk seeming so normal, never giving a hint as to what lay just beneath its bark. Would Bala look at me differently after today, knowing that I was choosing the same path she had been forced on? Would I even see her again?
“Robert, why did Bala leave?”
“She is the only one who can raise the sanctuary—its place is deep within the floor of the lake, held there by her roots—and in order to do that, she needs to remain with her tree. It requires an enormous amount of strength, and she’s strongest when she’s within the tree itself.”
“But it’s here now. Why hasn’t she come out? I was actually starting to like her.”
“She’s keeping the eyes of the forest turned away,” he replied.
“She’s what?”
He stepped out of the shadows to point to the darkness of the woods in front of us. “You remember I told you that there are things out there that you’ve never seen, things that can be very dangerous?” When I nodded he continued.
“This is my family’s land, but there are things here that are uninvited or remain here because they have nowhere else to go and they blame your kind for that. Bala is keeping the eyes of the forest turned away from us so that they do not see how vulnerable you are—now, more than ever, you carry the smell of death on you, Grace-”
“But I like your smell,” I said softly, inhaling deeply to emphasize my point.
“Not that smell,” he said, brushing his palm against my cheek. “You’ve chosen to die, which changes your very makeup, alters the way you smell to those who seek it out. Bala is keeping the creatures of the woods from finding you, though they can smell you near. Doing so keeps their thoughts free of you, and as such, free from invasion by Sam. If he cannot find you in the thoughts of others, he cannot find you.”
I couldn’t have imagined ever being grateful to a tree for keeping me safe, even if only for a little while longer, but I sent out a silent prayer of thanks to Bala. She never asked to be turned, never wanted the life that she now had, and yet she didn’t hate the very people who had caused her to lose so much. Instead, she was helping them, and in turn helping me.
It was very humbling.
Robert tugged gently at my hand and with one last look, I turned to follow him into the darkness, my footsteps steady though my leg throbbed immensely.
We had only gone in a few feet when the wall of trees seemed to groan around us, swallowing us in a crush of darkness and the scent of earth and greenery. The lack of light added to the growing fear inside of me as the groans turned into a long, loud rumbling. The curtain of moss fell behind us, cutting off the outside world.
In the pitch black, I fell into a state of panic. I could almost hear my heart as it galloped inside of my chest that now felt as closed in as I was. My hands groped around in the darkness, looking for something familiar and reassuring.
“It’s okay, Grace,” Robert said in a gentle tone. The soft light that flowed through him was a slightly opaque orange, just bright enough for me to see his amused smile. He filled my desperate hands with one of his and pulled me up against his side, holding me with a possessive authority I’d never felt before. I heard a muffled clicking sound before a diffused white light broke through to my side, revealing tiny curls of plant life that grazed my arm as we moved further into the center of the island.
“How’d you do that?” I asked in amazement.
“How’d I do what?”
“Create that light,” I replied, my hand pointing to a round, muted glow that seemed to come straight through the bark.
He laughed at that. “Some double-a batteries and a dome light that I bought at the dollar store next to the theater. They sell them in three packs—quite a good deal if you ask me.” He proceeded to pull me along, pressing down on the white rounded covers of several more lights, eventually giving the small clearing an almost dreamlike haze of brightness.
He turned to face me then, his eyes sparkling with hope, and then he spoke. “Are you ready?”
MELDING
I knew the answer to the question. I did. I just couldn’t say it.
“I understand if you’re nervous. I’m nervous, too. I’ve never done this before.”
“I would hope not,” I said with nervous laughter.
“Come,” he said to me, his expression serious now. He knelt down and took a hold of my ankle with one tender hand, warmth radiating through his palm and up my leg, easing the pain that shot t
hrough me. With one swift movement, he tore the leg of my jeans in half with the other hand, the rip climbing to my thigh, exposing the blistered and melted flesh that covered my lower leg.
“It’s not healing as quickly as it should,” he mumbled, placing his now free hand on the wound itself, the heat from inside of me dancing in warm streams with the heat that generated from his hand.
“Does it need to be healed?” I asked, knowing that this was taking up precious time, time that we did not have.
“Yes. If we do this while you are injured, the injury could have a hold on you forever.”
“But,” I began, looking at him sadly, “I’m not going to be here forever.”
His head lowered and I heard his teeth gnash in frustration as he battled against the truth of my words.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, hating myself for hurting him. He stood up gruffly and gripped my shoulders, shaking them as roughly as he dared, the hard, etched lines in his face telling me of the torment that lay inside of him. No matter where we were, the harsh realities still existed outside, waiting for us, waiting for me.
“Don’t apologize for anything, Grace. You aren’t at fault here. If I had been stronger, or had left you alone from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened.”
My eyes popped open wide at what he was saying. “Why would you say that? Why would you say such a thing? If you had left me alone—do you think that my life would have been any better had you not been in it, that I would have been as happy?”
“I know it would have.”
“Why? Because I would have lived a long life? Because I’d end up with Graham and we’d die an old married couple, alone in our bed with no children, no family, and with you dying anyway? Is that what you call better? That’s not the life I want, it never was. I’d rather die tomorrow having spent the past eight months with you, than live to be a thousand, never knowing you even existed. Even if we had never met, I would have missed you.”
He stared at me in shock, the image I conjured in his head a direct and accurate description of the dream I’d had shortly after we had broken up.
“That was no dream, Grace. What you just described was a possibility, a prediction of what could have happened had I not followed the path I was on. I have never shared that with anyone; how did you see this?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer. His hands left my shoulders, instead filling his palms with the sides of my face, pulling me towards his own as he bent down to press his smooth forehead against mine.
Instantly the thoughts began to swirl around in my mind. He sifted through the visions that drifted there. The memories that still stung with their bitterness; the thoughts that filled up endless corners with fear; the dreams that had plagued me and haunted me from the moment I realized that I could lose Robert. It was all darkness and black hope.
And then he saw something unexpected, something that shocked him, and I felt his body jerk in response. He delved deeper into my thoughts, searching, his body twitching and seizing with each thing that he found.
And then he tore himself away from me, a hand pressed against his head like he was staving off the bleeding of a wound, his eyes wide and full of astonishment.
I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.
“See what?”
He grabbed my hand and the memory of what seemed like a lifetime ago began to play in my mind like a miniature movie. The two of us were sitting on a bench, his hand securely holding onto mine, a strange, pleased smile on his face, and I was staring at our clasped hands curiously, shocked that such a thing was even happening. And then the flood of thoughts came flowing into my head from that touch like a broken faucet, filling it up with untold amounts of information, things that had made no sense to me, things that had no place in my waking state because they were things that I could never see happening, never believe possible.
They were his thoughts, his dreams, his visions, all bombarding my mind like soldiers storming a beach and taking control, my own memories retreating in defeat. My head had throbbed because of that, because of how much had been flowing in and filling me, stretching my mind in ways that seemed impossible. I had passed out as a result, and I realized that the vision I was seeing wasn’t mine but rather Robert’s because though I lay limp in his lap, blood pouring out of my nose at an unhealthy rate, the view was still focused on me.
He quickly tore a strip of fabric off of his shirt—I never realized that the cloth that had been used to wipe the blood off of me had been a part of the shirt he had worn that day—and began to clean me up as best he could. He touched my hair and stroked a still cheek with an errant finger, a smile forming on his lips that caused my stomach to tumble inside of me.
But then his face grew confused, anxious, his body tensing up at something he had expected to happen, yet hadn’t. His hand moved to the back of my head and he pressed his palm there, his other hand coming to press up against my forehead. Minutes passed without a single movement from him—not a twitch or a blink—he had stopped pretending to breathe, stopped blinking, looking for all the world like a life-like statue who just so happened to have a comatose girl bleeding in his lap.
A flicker in his silver eyes was the only sign that something had begun, and with a sigh, he relaxed. Whatever it was he had been waiting for had obviously happened.
“What was it?” I breathed, still trying to recover from that slow smile that had crossed his mouth. “What were you waiting for?”
When my thoughts overtook your own and caused you to lose consciousness, they stayed in your head far longer than they should have. In doing so, they became burned into your mind as though you had lived through them, experienced them yourself. I did not think it was possible. The power of suggestion is one thing, but my visions became your dreams, your memories.
His eyes twinkled as he spoke to me, realization and recognition dawning on him like the sun itself. Grace, do you see what’s happened? You’ve taken possession of some of my own thoughts and now see them as your own. You have a piece of me inside of you.
He grinned at me like a fool, as though I had just won the mental jackpot or something. He laughed at my thoughts and yanked my hand, my body effectively colliding with his painfully. But I ignored the pain—forgot it completely, even—when his lips crashed down onto mine.
It was easy to forget everything right then and there. With the outside world far away from us, and the security of knowing that no one else knew where we were, Robert’s mouth became insistent. He kissed the corners of my mouth before seeking the curve of my jaw, trailing alternating kisses and nibbling bites down to its apex, and then pressing his now warm lips against my pulse as it beat erratically just beneath my skin.
My hands moved on their own to burrow into his hair, the silky strands sliding through my fingers and turning the nerves there into miniature exploding firecrackers. I bit my lip when I felt his mouth open, hot against my throat, and stifled a moan when the wet tip of his tongue licked at the racing beat that chased after the one in my chest.
I was very close to giving in to the feelings that made my blood boil beneath my skin, especially when my hands moved down and came into contact with the bare skin of his back, feeling the muscles there straining as he, too, fought to maintain some sort of control. I heard the sound of ripping fabric, and felt his hands and then his lips against my shoulder, every rational thought suddenly replaced with want, need, fire.
My breathing was quick and shallow, the dizzying lack of oxygen turning me into a willing zombie, and I knew that if things didn’t stop now, they never would.
It hurt—oh, dear God, it hurt—but I managed to breathe out the word “stop” several times before it was loud enough for both of us to hear, and we pulled apart. Robert’s body was shaking—or was that mine?—with the intense desire to keep going, his eyes dilated with hunger. I could see my reflection in them, and saw that my irises were almost overtaken by the black of my pupils as well, my chest rising
and falling violently as I tried to control my breathing, my body turning against me in frustration.
Robert looked at me with rueful understanding but his hands were still holding onto my arms, and I did not protest when he pulled me back to him, my stuttering heart slamming against my ribs, the vibrations thundering straight on through to his. “It’s time,” he whispered raggedly, his breath blowing across my face in sweet waves.
“T-time for what?” I panted, not realizing how difficult this was going to be.
“I have to turn you…now, otherwise it won’t happen at all.”
“W-why?” I sputtered.
“Because I’m barely hanging on here, Grace—I’m not capable of stopping again, I don’t have the strength or the willpower anymore. I don’t want to anymore. I’m losing control here and if I don’t focus on doing this, we might both be sorry.”
I understood, down to the marrow in my bones, what that meant, and I blushed profusely. Nodding, I placed my hands in front of me, pressing them against his chest and closing my eyes to the sight. “Okay.”
A sigh a long time in coming escaped his lips as he brought me as close as physically possible to his body. He pulled my head beneath his chin and showered the top of my hair with gentle kisses, each one followed by words of encouragement, love, and promises that we both knew could never be kept.
I wrapped my hands around his waist, my arms grazing against the wings that he had not retracted, the buttery soft texture of the dark feathers tickling me. I pressed a quick kiss to the hollow in his throat and vowed silently to never stop loving this man, no matter what happened from this moment on.
Robert began to hum. It was a low sound, something that I would have missed had we been anywhere else but here. My eyes flew open and I watched as the walls around us began to vibrate, though no soil fell, and the web of roots that crisscrossed across them did not shudder or shake. The humming grew louder and the vibrations grew stronger, turning everything into blurry replicas of what they were. The lights that Robert had turned on looked like they were dancing against the dark walls, resembling small moons in a nighttime sky.
