The Vapor

by Nathan Parks

  “Oh, and what would that be, Michael?”

  “That you fell for her beauty just as I did. YOU were deceived and enticed! YOU chose to make the choice you did because you BELIEVED her; and in the end, she chose me!”

  “Our story has not fully been written, Brother!” Zarius shoved passed Michael and once again straddled his bike. “Why are you here, anyway? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t for a family reunion.”

  “Well, at least you still have some smarts in that being of yours,” Michael said with sarcasm. “I also don’t think you have to really ask why I am here. You knew that I would come one day.”

  Zarius felt his strength drain from him as he started the bike. The bike revved, and he looked straight into his sibling’s eyes. “It was lost centuries ago. I don’t know where it is.”

  “Lying, no matter if you are fully not an Eternal anymore, can still set you over into the world of the Clans, Brother.”

  “Well, I guess you would know more than I, wouldn’t you?” With that, Zarius kicked gravel into the air and didn’t look back as he roared away.

  He knew that Michael didn’t believe him . . . well, fully. He also knew that if Michael wanted to, he could have stopped him, but he didn’t. This meant that he was testing the waters. He had to figure out why. Why now? What would make his brother take the chance to come out of Scintillantes and come to see him? Well, except for . . . even if he did come for it, then that meant something was in the works.

  Michael watched his brother vanish down the road and then walked around the back of the bar and disappeared. There was still time.

  Chapter Two

  Zarius roared up next to an old sheet-metal building and kicked the kickstand down on his bike. His anger was seething inside. The memories never left him, but to have them shoved in his face was a whole different thing.

  The desert heat was not as scorching today as it would be if it was summer, but he still allowed it to dance upon his skin. He soaked it in and just sat on his bike, attempting to collect his emotions. He couldn’t walk in with this much emotion.

  He wouldn’t have to: a voice from the door to his right caught him off guard, and he closed his eyes, not wishing to have to explain anything but knowing he would have no other choice.

  “Kicking up a dust cloud that can be seen for miles, revving up your motor at top speeds, and now sitting there with your body more tense than a parachute harness on an overweight skydiver . . . hmm . . . either the bar was out of beer or something else obviously has you angry.” The female’s voice was strong and clearly had the tone and focus filled with wisdom from the ages.

  He dismounted and brushed off the dust from his clothes; it was more of a stalling motion. He had no desire to look up at the weathered, but beautiful, female figure standing in the doorway. “Yeah, you know how I get when they run out of my favorite alcohol.”

  “True, and I keep telling you that it will be the death of you yet.” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to respond. “Yes, the death of you, because you know good and well that even though you may live longer than any of us mortals, you aren’t fully immortal anymore.”

  He looked into her eyes, and with one look the rush of anger and raw emotion was replaced with an overwhelming desire to grab her and lift her up. He wanted to swing her around and kiss her long and hard. Memories of when that was common brought a smile across his face. “Dang, you are still as beautiful as the first time I met you.”

  “And you, Zee, are as smooth, charming, and not-to-be-trusted as the first time I met you!”

  Tanisha was still breathtaking to him. True, living in the desert heat and wind had weathered her skin, and her once long, jet-black hair was streaked with gray; but he didn’t care. She stood there in a loose, white cotton, button-up blouse and brown jeans, and he wanted to whisk her away to a fountain of youth.

  They had met almost 30 years ago when she was just 25. He had attempted to avoid falling for her, but she had made it impossible. When the time came for him to reveal to her the truth about who he was and what a future looked like for them, she never batted an eye.

  “No matter if I have tomorrow or a century of tomorrows, Zarius, I don’t want to spend a single one of them without you,” she had said to him. And they had never spent a day apart since.

  It took over a decade for the difference to begin to show; but even though he appeared ageless to this day, in his eyes she was still the young and energetic 25-year-old. He loved her more today than he did then. Yes, there was a pain that sat deep inside his being knowing that the sands of the ages would blow through and take her away one day, but it also meant that they treasured each moment more than the last.

  He walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her body was still petite but strong. Strength, both mentally and physically, was required to live out here. He pulled her close and could see a smile break across her lips, but her eyes clearly were stating to him, “You aren’t going to get out of telling me what is going on.”

  He looked at her for a moment, and his lips touched hers. He drank in her kiss and let the world stop. This was home. This was his heaven.

  “It seems that what I have always feared would eventually arrive at our doorstep has finally shown up.”

  She leaned back and looked at him with a look of concern and fierceness. “Your past?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  She placed her right hand on his chest and felt each breath he took. “We both knew it would come one day, Sweetheart. You never kept your past—or what it could mean— from me. I chose this path with you with a full understanding of what it could mean. It could have been a month after we met or today. We both knew this moment would come.”

  “I am not ready.”

  “Ready? You have been ready since the first time I saw you on the archeologist dig. That was why you were there, wasn’t it?”

  “I don’t mean that. I mean that I am not ready to lose you.”

  She turned and slipped out of his arms and walked into the building. It was deceiving from the outside. To those who didn’t know better, they would think it was an abandoned building made of scrap metal, but inside there were two levels. Below ground was a humble dwelling place that was made up of a bedroom, living room, kitchen, and a few other smaller rooms. The ground floor consisted of a garage with auto parts lying around. Inharmoniously, one corner was dedicated to research of historical artifacts and the study of archeology.

  Tanisha may not be working in the field as she once did, but she was still consumed by a passion for ancient civilizations and history. She and Zarius had met on a site in the Middle East. She felt drawn to him immediately. He was a rebel then and still was. She would admit she originally was drawn by lust—lust for his big eyes, thick hair, and the muscular body that filled out his frame. As she began to learn more about him, she discovered a heart of strength, loyalty, and tenderness all wrapped up into an amazing package of a man.

  The couple walked in, and Tanisha moved toward her work corner. She started tracing her fingers along the spines of several books that were located on a shelf. She found the one for which she was looking and pulled it out. It was a well-worn journal, dog-eared and stained. She brushed her hand across the front of the cover as she smiled. She then looked up at Zarius and handed to it to him.

  “Do you remember this?”

  He took it from her. He didn’t have to look down at it. He knew what it was. “Of course. You know that I do.”

  “It is the site journal I was keeping when we met. Little did I know that the notes that I was taking in it would be a roadmap to a life that can only be lived through the imaginations of fantasy writers.” He raised his eyes to meet hers as she continued, “You are who you are. You must do what you need to do.”

  He began to flip through the pages. Words were penned in her beautiful script handwriting, and images that she had drawn in pencil jumped out at him. He could smell the ancient artifacts. He could hear the sou
nd of tools scraping away the coverings placed by time and space.

  “Zarius, you will never lose me . . . never! Do you hear me? I will always be with you: your memories—our memories!”

  A tear began to fall silently down the warrior’s cheek. “I am not ready to hold you only in memories.”

  “Yes, but we both know that if you do not fulfill your duties, there are more lives at stake here than just you and me. Humanity is at stake, and yes, even though you may not be a part of humanity, I am.”

  “I know.”

  “What happened? Who was it?” she asked, referring back to what had taken place before he had returned home.

  “It was my brother.”

  “Michael?”

  “Yeah, the only brother I have,” he scoffed . . . not at her but at the thought of it.

  “What if you share what you know with those who need to know?”

  He set the book down on her desk and leaned up against it. He stared off into nothingness and didn’t speak for a moment. He just thought. Her questions seemed so simple, but the complexity was beyond anything even he could understand. Michael had a point. There would be no way to prove what he knew; and without proof, he was bringing a story that would be impossible for anyone to believe, let alone the Arch Council.

  “I can’t. There is no way they would believe me. He has them all wrapped around his finger. They have existed with him for longer than any mortal could even understand. He is not only a trusted member of the Council but, I dare say, the most trusted member of the Council.”

  Tanisha crossed her arms and began to pace around. Her humanity may not allow her to fully understand the eternal realm, but her time upon this earth had brought her a lot of wisdom and discernment. “What if you find someone who will believe you?”

  He looked up with a puzzled expression. “Like who? Dear, you know that most think I am vanquished, and most who know that I am not are those who want nothing more than to make it the actual truth. I have done my best to make sure that no one knows that I exist anymore; and if they do, then they have no idea what I possess!”

  “Maybe it is time to come out of the shadows.”

  “I can’t. My role in the War of the Serpents is well-known . . . well, I should say at least the part that my brother has established as truth is well-known.”

  She walked up to him and grabbed his arms. “That is what I am saying. Maybe it is time to let the truth come out! You know the truth. You know what the leaders of the . . . what do you call them?”

  “Well, they were the rebellion, but here on earth they are the Clan Leaders.”

  “Zee, you know what the leaders of the Clans are hoping to do! You know that they can do it if they are able to get their hands on what you possess! To me, it seems smart to ensure that someone else knows, also! God forbid if they can take you out and no one else has a clue of what is taking place!”

  He stepped away from her and walked out into the garage area. “They have known all along what they were doing, Tanisha! The Clans are not for certain I still have it. I know this, because if Michael knew for sure, he would not have stopped at just a conversation today! He would have forced me to give it to him! They also know that if they can keep others from knowing I am alive, keep me afraid of coming out of the shadows, keep others believing their lies, or any version of any of that . . . then, I am hopeless!”

  Her eyes flared. “Ok, you can stop right there! I have never known you to be scared or afraid of anything, and the last thing my husband is is hopeless! So, you can stop now! You are Zarius! It is time that you stood up, came out of the shadows, and once again be the warrior I know in your heart that you are!”

  “You don’t understand! How can you? You are . . .”

  Her jaw was set as he stopped mid-sentence. “I am what? Human? Are you really going to go there?”

  He hung his head; his shoulders slumped. He knew that he didn’t mean the words, but he had started to say them. He had found over the years that he was able to “live” like he was just like her. Even though he was able to maintain a feeble attempt at convincing himself, the truth was always there. One of the reasons he had started taking to drinking was to dull the pain and even the guilt that he had for not being like her . . . like her: to know the end was closer than the beginning; to not know so much of the universe. How he wished he could be like her.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You do know, and you will do it. I don’t know how, but you, My Dear, have always found a way.”

  ◆◆◆

  The desert life, especially the evenings, were easier, quieter, and seemed more peaceful than almost anything on this planet. The sky’s infinite boundaries couldn’t be clearer. The night reached out and touched him, embraced him, and it was the closest he felt to home. Of course, “home” was relevant, because for ages he really had had no home.

  He felt his wife’s presence even before she touched his back. “I’m sorry. I can’t sleep.”

  “I am not surprised. When will you leave?”

  He moved over so she could sit down on the rock formation on which he sat. They both looked out over the landscape. A coyote paused in the distance and looked at them and then moved on. Zarius had wanted nothing more than to never return to what he had left behind. “In a few hours.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “Where will you go?”

  “Eden. I have no choice. You were right. I do know what needs to be done, and I know that there is only one that can do it. Eyes will be opened. Either the truth will be believed or rejected, but I have to at least try.”

  “And that is why I love you.” She paused. “Will I see you again?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I do.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “I guess I just needed to hear you say what we already know.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Mistress, he has arrived.”

  “I know. I felt him long before his entourage pulled up. Have him wait in the foyer, and I will be there momentarily.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Hecate turned and looked at herself in the mirror. This visit tonight was unexpected; and when he had called, she didn’t know if she was more shocked that he had called or that he was even here. This would be interesting either way.

  She made her way down the hall and toward the foyer. The foyer was large and spacious and held one of two blood-crimson grand pianos: Hecate’s pride and joy. They had been handmade for her by a Druid priest and had been strung by Nascente, an underling of Lucifer. Each piano would never lose its perfect pitch, and her fingers seemed to become a part of the keys as she allowed her spirit to flow through these instruments when she played.

  The smell of cinnamon and myrrh permeated the air, giving the sense of a sweet strength and, yet, a feeling of heaviness that made one want to move slowly, almost as if in a trance. This was the web of a seductress, and many who entered her lair would not see the light of a sunrise again.

  She really missed her estate right now in Europe, but pressing matters here kept her from being where she felt the strongest. The last five years of the Clan Wars had taken a toll on her; but she was pretty sure that her house remained the strongest, and she also enjoyed not having to answer to anyone but herself. True, there was power and strength in the Clans being united, but she had truly discovered freedom in focusing on those who aligned with the House of Hecate.

  ◆◆◆

  Her visitor stood waiting for her to make her entrance. He could smell her enticing and enchanting scent coming from the hallway even before she could be seen . . . then, there she stood. He truly wished he was stronger; but of course, he would never vocalize his weakness to her. Why should he? It wasn’t like she didn’t know and exploited it any chance she got; and as for anyone else, it would not benefit either of them for others to know.

  When Hecate spoke, he could feel himself being drawn toward her. “I am sure you still find the
atmosphere of mortals crushing and heavy; then again, the bright and light space of Scintillantes is more than I can bear any more.”

  “True, My Dear, but maybe it is because the longer you stay inside the darkness, the less dark it seems; and before you know it, darkness resembles light.”

  She chuckled, “Well, you would know that more than any of us. I do believe you may be the only dark spot back home, and to think you still manage to exist without being exposed. Then, of course, there are the ‘wise words’ that you regurgitate.”

  He turned and looked at her. “It is my lack of exposure all these years from which you have benefited . . . and what is this ‘home’ you are talking about? Do you still remember it, or is all you remember simply the feeling of it being stripped from you and being exiled?”

  Her lips parted in a delicious smile. He remembered the way they tasted. Her dark crimson lips were accented by the hint of elongated white canines. Her skin was pale against the bluish, inky darkness of the night, her silhouette curvaceous and stirring. Hecate was the creator of seduction, dedicated to the refining of such an art form.