by S. L. Naeole
Robert had leapt, the motion far less smooth than usual, his arms holding on to me by my waist, leaving my feet dangling beneath me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder, the sights around us moving by too fast to do anything but turn my stomach with dizziness.
He didn’t say anything to me during the short flight and I fought against the urge to ask him if it was because he was too busy trying to figure out what had happened or if he was bothered by the fact that Sam had been inside my head and had taken over a part of it, tainting it somehow. I looked at him and waited for him to respond to my thoughts, thankful that I wouldn’t have to voice the questions at all.
When he remained stoic, I frowned. Was the answer that bad? Did he really think me tainted, my mind defiled by Sam’s infection of deceit?
I opened my mouth to tell him to answer me, but I couldn’t. There wasn’t enough time to do anything but brace myself for the landing that came then, rough and unyielding to my human body. My feet hit the ground and had barely enough time to right themselves when I was once again dragged through the front door, pulled into the living room that now held a concerned Ameila and…
“Dr. Ambrose?”
The pale, auburn haired man stood up and nodded his head to Robert before offering me a half-smile that was more out of courtesy than anything else. His friendly demeanor had been replaced by a tenseness that I could only assume was because of the close proximity of Robert.
“Hello, Grace,” he said to me, his voice low and steady as his eyes darted warily between Robert and me.
“Why are you here? Is it Stacy? How is she?”
It was such an insignificant thing, but had I not known where I was, and who I was surrounded by, I would have dismissed it when I saw Ameila’s silver eyes blink, and Dr. Ambrose’s pupils dilate, turning his already dark eyes near black.
“Something’s going on. What’s happened?” My voice had cracked a bit, the fear that had somehow lost its edge while locked away with Robert—even with Sam in my head—was back.
Robert looked at me and shook his head, his hands taking a hold of mine in an effort to offer me the support I didn’t know I needed. “I promised no more secrets, Grace. Dr. Ambrose is here because Stacy is in a coma.”
I threw accusing eyes at the pale doctor and demanded to know what happened, especially when she’d been perfectly fine the last time I had seen her. He looked away at first—an almost guaranteed sign of guilt—and then slowly his gaze returned to mine as he answered in a firm and honest voice.
“She came in for her weekly testing yesterday. While she was getting dressed, something happened. A nurse found Stacy unconscious on the floor. We’ve run a multitude of tests but can find no medical cause for it, no reasonable justification that can be explained by any of the results, which leads me to believe that this has more to do with you than it does with her cancer.”
My hands clenched into tight balls at my side. “You think…you think that this…this is my fault?”
He shook his head and looked nervously at Robert, his hands shaking as he spoke. “No, no. I don’t think this is your fault at all. I just know that there’s nothing more that I can do for Stacy. Her family is distraught, as you can expect. They’ve not left her side once, and I can’t offer them any advice or comfort as to what to do since I don’t possess the ability to see what’s going on in her mind, I don’t know to what extent her unconsciousness goes.”
“So you’re here to seek Ameila’s help?”
He looked at Ameila and then shook his head. “I’m afraid that even if I knew what was going on in Stacy’s head, it wouldn’t be enough to figure out a treatment that would be enough to satisfy her parents. They’ve been preparing for this moment since Stacy was a little girl; in their minds, she’s already gone.”
My body screamed in silent denial as I realized what he was telling me. I pounded on his chest, each blow to the cold stone of his body emphasizing my grief. “No! No-no-no! You have to convince them that she’s going to be okay. Tell them that she’s going to wake up, tell them that she’s going to be fine!”
Ameila eased between Dr. Ambrose and me and took my hands, holding them still until I couldn’t struggle anymore, letting them fall to my sides like dead weights. Gently, she slipped her soft hands into mine, warmth filling them and radiating deeply into my skin, warming my blood and lulling me into an unwanted calm.
“No!” I shouted, yanking my hands away from hers and turning to Robert, grabbing onto his arms, my head shaking furiously in denial as tears streamed down my face. “No. This isn’t supposed to happen. None of this is supposed to happen. We’re supposed to go to the prom in two days—she went to all that trouble to find me the perfect dress. Graham got that matching tie…
“And he’s supposed to move to Florida and live happily ever after with Lark—it’s why he turned, it’s why he made that choice. And none of that is going to happen now and it’s all because of me. This is all happening because of me—it’s all my fault.”
Robert’s hands found themselves at my shoulders, gripping onto them tightly, supportively. “This is not your fault. You did not ask for any of this, did not do anything that would warrant any of this happening. Don’t blame yourself.”
“This is all the result of Sam’s mistake. You couldn’t have caused any of this if you had planned it out yourself,” Ameila added. She filled the curve of her palm with my chin as she forced me to look at her, her eyes soft and warm, despite the icy silver that greeted me.
“Do you believe in destiny, Grace?”
I looked at her through the blurry haze of tears, confusion only adding to the warped image I took in of her. “If I believe in you, I have to, right?”
She smiled, her head bouncing up and down in agreement. “Well, there are many different types of destiny. Destiny isn’t always a set path. Sometimes, destiny is the need for you to make choices that you otherwise wouldn’t have. If you don’t make that choice, your life veers onto another path, sometimes for the better, sometimes not.”
“But what does that have to do with what Sam’s doing to my friends?”
“You have to remember that they’re going through this with you. Your choice to be with Robert gave Graham the choice to be with Lark. Stacy chose to be friends with you, and in turn, she chose to befriend Lark. When they learned what we are, they had the choice to end their ties to us, but did not.
“Humans have the luxury of choice, and as a result, destiny doesn’t force them to follow the same paths as it does for us. You cannot lay the blame for their choices at your feet, Grace. Destiny is many things, but it is never a lie.”
Her words caused a tremor of shock to run through me. “You’re blaming this on them?”
“I’m saying that when they chose to become a part of a world they knew nothing about, they opened themselves up to its dangers.”
“And they accept it,” Dr. Ambrose said, his voice full of conviction.
“Don’t give me that,” I snapped, pulling away from all them to stand in a lonely corner near one of the tall bookshelves.
“There’s no way that Graham agreed to be kidnapped and have his life traded for mine. And Stacy didn’t agree to have her cancer come back and fight through it, only to end up in a coma. And what about Katie? She didn’t know anything, didn’t have anything to do with this. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“And what more perfect example of destiny could there be than the execution of that exact phrase?” Ameila asked. “There’s no such thing as being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everything happens for a reason, Grace. Everything. It doesn’t seem that way because most humans can’t see beyond their emotions, but every action, every decision made that led up to that point makes it the right place at the right time.”
The logic in her explanation didn’t ease my guilt any, succeeding in only further hardening my resolve to do the only thing I knew could help save the lives of th
ose that I cared about, those that I loved.
“Where’s Lark? I want to get this over with as soon as possible so that no one else gets hurt.”
“That’s the main reason why I’m here,” Dr. Ambrose commented behind me.
“What? Why?” I turned around to face him.
“I need Lark to see into Stacy’s mind.”
“Couldn’t Ameila do that?”
His head shook with disappointment. “She’s already tried. There’s nothing there.”
Robert, who had appeared to be lost in thought, cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean by that?”
Ameila placed a hand on her son’s arm, a million thoughts exchanging in that simple touch. She looked at me and spoke out loud what she knew I’d understand. “I went to the hospital to see Stacy at the request of Ambrose, but I found no signs of life within her mind. She is not dead—her mind is intact, healthier than it might have ever been—but it’s empty, void of thought or memory, like it had been wiped clean of everything significant in her life.”
“That’s just like Erica! But, how?” I asked, my eyes bouncing back and forth between hers, Robert’s, and Dr. Ambrose’s. “And what can Lark do that you can’t?”
Ameila sighed and looked at Robert once more. Only then did I see the darkness that had filled his eyes as he glared at Dr. Ambrose, who was now much closer to me than he had been just moments before, and his skin was paler, if such a thing were possible.
“Someone—more specifically an angel—has tampered with Stacy’s mind. The human mind is so fragile that it wouldn’t take much to overwhelm it to the point of breakdown.”
“But if her mind is blank, what’s Lark gonna do?”
“She’s going to find Stacy.”
There are some things that I can understand with little explanation, some things I can come to figure out on my own after some examination, and then there are things that leave me completely at a loss for words. This was one of those things.
Sensing this, Ameila continued. “Every human’s mind is like a house. There are doors and windows into it that let in light and information. Eventually, what goes into the house comes out by means of our actions, our words, what we create, but they still leave behind their imprints, their memories.
“Sometimes, these houses are broken into. The damage varies, but you repair them, you clean things up and move on. The proof that the human being is resilient can be found when trauma changes one’s perception of everything around them, only to fall back into a state of peace after some time of healing.
“But then there are moments when these houses burn down to nothing. Intense grief, disease, and the deprivation of things necessary for the human to survive are just a few of these causes, but the end results are the same. The homes have to be rebuilt. But how? Where do you start? There are no blueprints to the human mind.
“That’s when you discover that some minds, like homes, possess a safe hidden deep within itself, protecting the owner’s most valuable assets—memories too precious and important to forget, information that is essential to the very essence of the human soul, and love that can keep the human spirit willing to push past the emptiness.
“Lark’s ability to hear the thoughts of humans and angels alike, no matter the distance, could find these thoughts if they exist within Stacy. Depth is, after all, just another measure of distance. Stacy had a strong mind, and a strong heart, and we believe she’s still in there…somewhere.”
My eyes lit up at this news. “So that means that Stacy can be saved? She’ll wake up and everything will be alright?”
I felt the icy sting of a bloodless hand on my arm and turned my head to see Dr. Ambrose’s head shaking once more. “What? If Lark can find Stacy and help her with her memories, then things will be fine. Right?”
“Grace, even if Lark is able to bring Stacy out of the coma, she’s still going to die from the cancer.” Dr. Ambrose’s voice carried a somber tone that I didn’t like. I felt my eyes narrowing in a glare that mimicked Robert’s.
“So what’s the point? If she’s just going to die, why even bring this up? Why give anyone hope? What’s the point in hope if no matter what anyone does, she’ll still end up dead?”
“Ameila and I have both agreed that if Lark can determine that Stacy’s mind still possesses some ability to understand and process thoughts, there might be a way to save her life.”
My head flew to Robert, his expression having grown much darker, his wings ruffling with agitation. “You’re not saving her life,” he hissed. “You’re turning her into a meal.”
“Robert!” Ameila gasped.
“Don’t pretend that it’s not true, mother! Your plan might allow Stacy to exist beyond what her mortal body would allow, but she won’t have her life, and she definitely won’t have her humanity. She’ll be a monster, just like you!” His eyes were full of raw disgust as he glared at Dr. Ambrose.
“Robert!” admonished Ameila, her head shaking in disgust. “I condemned Stacy to die when I turned Graham—but Ambrose is offering her another solution. It is not the best one, but isn’t it better than her being turned without permission and perhaps becoming something worse? You know what could happen-”
“I asked you to watch over her, to protect her and keep her safe,” Robert snarled, his anger causing the deep black of his pupils to stretch over the silver of his irises until only a faint ring of light could be seen. “If you take her life only to condemn her to an eternity as a flesh-eating beast like you…”
“I will not be taking her life,” Dr. Ambrose stated defiantly, his nose and chin rising up to face Robert’s challenge. “If she decides that what I have to offer her is what she wants, I’ll be giving her life. My body might not be living, my heart might not beat, but that doesn’t mean that I’m dead. You should know that better than anyone else.”
Robert’s eyes widened, and I sighed with pained relief when the darkness began to edge away from him, Dr. Ambrose’s point hitting home.
“I’ve come to know Stacy quite well. She accepted the fact that she was dying, bypassing denial and anger altogether, and she’s shown a tremendous amount of humility as well. She even has a sense of humor about it, which I find quite…remarkable. I think that given her nonchalant attitude about death, she’ll be very amenable to my offer. And I promise you that if she agrees, my wife and I will see to it that she learns to control her urges, that she learns how to live as normal a life as possible among the humans, the way that I do,” the doctor vowed.
I watched as Robert began to pace, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides while the tips of his wings dragged across the wooden floor. “This goes against everything I believe in, everything that I’ve been brought up to believe…We tolerate you because you were created before the new laws. If I had my way, you’d all become extinct.”
“You’re no different than I am,” Dr. Ambrose countered, his newfound courage bolstering him in a way that made him seem almost as frighteningly dark as Robert had been just moments before.
“You take the lives of innocent people just as much as you do the guilty, and in doing so you destroy their families, their hopes, their dreams. When you kill them, you not only take their souls, but you damage the souls of the people that care about them. When I take a life, I at least leave them their soul, allowing them to choose what they do with it.”
“I’ve never taken a life that wasn’t meant to be taken, and I’ve never left a soul behind to grow darker and darker until there’s nothing left of it to send anywhere.” Robert ground out.
“But you know that it won’t be that way for her,” the doctor reminded him. “She has choices now, choices that I didn’t have. And with me to help her, I can prevent her from becoming the monster you fear.”
“I don’t like it either but you must see that this is the only way to save her,” Ameila interjected. “She doesn’t have that much time, Robert. Without her memories to hold on to, Stacy’s body will start to give
in. And even if she somehow fights it, her parents won’t. They’ve already made the decision to take her off of full support.”
Robert turned to face me, torment and anguish engulfing his features. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it? Everyone else gets a second chance but us. What do you want to do?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“If it means saving Stacy’s life, then I say we do it.”
Ameila and Dr. Ambrose both sighed with relief.
“We need to find Lark,” Ameila announced. “Where did she say she was going, Grace?”
“I don’t know.”
She turned a frighteningly angry face towards Robert. “And you,” she growled. “You were about to break the law of the Nephilim! Are you that desperate to die?”
Robert’s eyes turned cold and hard. “I know my place is to be with Grace. Dying is only the journey to get there.”
My heart stumbled at those words.
Ameila turned her head to look at me, the anger that lit up her face having enough of an effect to cause me to step away. “Swear that you won’t break our law, Grace. Swear it.”
“Don’t!” Robert shouted at the two of us.
“I-I swear,” I stuttered.
Satisfied, Ameila’s face softened, the ethereal glow returning to her perfect features. “Thank you,” she said, matter-of-factly before moving to stand beside her son, a consoling hand held out to him. “N’Uriel, you must understand why-”
Robert cut her off, jerking away from her outstretched hand in disgust. “You have no right. Being Seraphim gives you dominion over me, but not over Grace. Her choices are not yours!”
I rushed to him, placed my hands on his chest and pleaded for him to calm down before his anger grew out of control. “Robert, please. This isn’t going to help anyone. I had the choice to say no and I didn’t. Your mother has no choice but to want to save your life—you’re her son.”
