by Abra Ebner
He snorted, “Whatever, but you just signed your death certificate honey.”
I glowered at his crude reference, “They’re fine Sam. And don’t ever call me honey.”
He laughed as we walked through the trees, “You’re such a sucker for weakness. It’s disgusting.”
“You’re disgusting,” I retorted.
He frowned, “I beg to differ, and I’m actually very clean.” He opened his jacket toward me, baring his strong pale chest, “See. Take a whiff. It’s like a newborn baby.”
I looked at him with revulsion.
His wings suddenly sprung from his back and I rolled my eyes, bracing myself for what was to come. Despite my attempts to resist him, he scooped me from the forest floor and we shot skyward.
“You know I was enjoying the walk,” I said as he held me against his frigid chest.
He smirked, “Yeah, well I’m enjoying the excuse to make you touch me.”
I wriggled in his grasp, disgusted by his lecherous advances. Though I knew, or at least hoped he was joking, it was still enough to drive me mad with anger. “You’re a pig,” I spat at him.
He laughed, “Oh just take it easy princess, you’ll live. I’m not that bad, you’re hurting my feelings.”
The smug look on his face suggested that there were no feelings to hurt, so it really didn’t matter how vile I was to him. We soared over the trees as they flashed below in a blur of green and brown. Having Sam was like having your own dragon, or Pegasus, except I’d hope if I’d had one of those, they wouldn’t talk.
Sam looked down at me, “Dragons are dangerous and a Pegasus is too aloof and ditsy, you may as well have a cricket to ride. Trust me.”
I laughed, “Yeah right, like those even exist.”
His eyebrows shot up, “Did you ever think I would exist?”
I pressed my brows together, of course I had believed in angels, but he had a point. I never really thought I’d end up being friends with one. It had always been a human fairy tale that angels could exist amongst us, invisible and kind. Though my thoughts on their personality were tragically screwed, the stories had at least been true. I guess there was a lot of truth to fairy tales and stories these days, so the truth was, there was no truth.
The meadow was soon visible over the canopy of the forest and I sighed with relief. I needed a rest. The day had been hard enough and the way Edgar’s ghost had stared right through me was eerie, as though I were nothing more than a moving statue, or a worthless human.
Sam dove down into the opening, but instead of setting us down, he skimmed the grass. We flew furiously through the meadow as I winced and turned my head where I buried it in Sam’s chest as the familiar watery wall appeared before us, just as it had the day Edgar and I had gone out on the snowmobile. I felt as we crashed through it, the rippling cracking around us like glass and water.
I felt as Sam protectively tucked his body around me as though we were now a bowling ball, the crash of metal and glass shattering all around us. We slammed hard against what I supposed was the back wall of the garage and I grunted as the breath was knocked from my lungs.
As Sam released his captive arms from around me, I moved to punch him in the stomach but resisted, figuring I wasn’t up for the pain.
“Why did you do that?” I yelled, his hands cuffing me as I struggled against his confines. Anger boiled in my heart, the type of anger that drives even the sanest men into a murderous rage.
He laughed, “I always meant to destroy that thing.”
I looked over his shoulder at the mass of green metal that was balled up around him and smashed into the wall as though it were nothing more than soft foil. “Sam! That was my car!”
“You’ll get over it,” he pushed me out of the wreck of metal and away from him. “It’s not like you were using it.”
“I hate you!” I screamed, my face now hot with fury, “Why do you insist on doing this to me, all the time!” His childish attitude toward life was reckless.
He shrugged, “I just like to pull your chain Elly, take a chill pill.” He put his hand up to my face as a smirk curled across his milky cheeks and his eyes glimmered like amber marbles.
I struggled to understand what he meant as I grumbled at him, the sound echoing off the walls of the long garage. My emotions were useless against his infuriating mask of confidence as I wiped the look of sadness from my face. I walked to the hunk of metal, my Datsun completely unrecognizable besides the fake wood steering wheel and the green paint that was chipped from the rust and grime.
None of Edgar’s cars had been grazed by the incident, and I was at least thankful for that as I traced my hand along the glossy black of the Hummer my car had been parked next to. I exhaled at the touch, finding it the first thing of Edgar’s I had touched since being back. Edgar had kept every one of his cars in immaculate condition, not even a speck of dirt in the tire.
Sam stood, “At least he had better taste,” he pointed to the black Camaro that had been parked on the other side of my car, now gleaming in the reflection of the Hummer.
“I don’t really care to hear your opinions right now and I’d rather you just leave, before I really lose it.” I pointed to the door, my eyes looking away from him and stinging with pain.
He snorted lightly, his feet crumpling through the pile of debris and marching down the long garage toward the door.
I exhaled as I turned back and looked at the scraps of metal, my heart sinking as I took in the mess that was my past, that increment of lost life. I lightly stepped around the twisted pieces of rubber and glass, leaving it behind as a reminder of what it had been as I made my way into the house. I eyed each of Edgar’s cars as I passed as though each were a ghost, just as he was.
The cat popped out from behind the Mercedes as I walked toward the door and I jumped back, startled by her pure white fur in contrast to the shiny blackness of the cars. Her feet were treading with extreme delicacy, as though aware of the sacred things contained within this room.
“Hey there girl,” I knelt down and ran my hand along her back, her voice erupting into thunderous rolls of purring. Her silvery eyes followed me as she rubbed against my touch, glimmering with a life I hadn’t noticed in the meek air of the house.
I furled my brow, “What are you?” I whispered, “Who are you?” She meowed then, staring at me as though I’d hit a chord. Something about her was so different, so unique. She meowed again, her teeth showing as she let her voice trail off into a howl, reverberating off the cars and ringing back into my ears. I stood up, a little taken back by her sudden show of understanding. She turned to walk into the house then and I followed, finding no other place to really go.
After shutting the door behind me I walked toward the kitchen as my feet dragged across the granite of the entry, my body tight from the crashing of fear that had racked my muscles. I looked up to the top of the stairs, the cat following my gaze as she darted up the steps with ease, as though flying. I whistled to her as she sat on the top landing, curling her tail around her body and her eyes stubbornly fixed.
“Kitty kitty, come here,” I patted my leg but she didn’t budge, her eyes now narrow with sleep. I took a deep breath and approached the steps, my pace quiet and steady. I glanced around for any sign of Sam but I couldn’t see him, the air was still and the hall empty.
Exhaling, I mounted the steps, steadily climbing toward my room. As I reached the top of the landing I knelt and traced my finger across the cat’s milky white head and down the length of her nose. Her eyes watched me before she stood and darted toward the door into Edgar’s room where she let out a sharp meow, almost like a snort, and pawed at the crack in the jam. I sighed, finding that my notions as to where she had been going with this had been correct. I tightened my hands into fists at my sides, forcing myself to face my demons as I stepped forward.
Rolling my feet across the ground as I approached, one foot at a time, the cat fervently watched as though urging me somehow, coaching me alon
g the way. I placed my hand on the cold brass handle, thinking that the last person to touch this had been Edgar. I gripped it harder and looked down at my feet, the cat’s silver eyes flashing at me, waiting for me to open the door.
It was obvious she could have done this on her own. After all, she had seemed to move about the house with ease, door or no door, as though a ghost. She had waited for me though, sensing this place was mine alone to face.
I pressed down on the handle, pushing with force as the jam refused to let the door budge, time now sealing it for all eternity. My nerves halted as I found myself discouraged. Finding no other logical action I took a deep breath and threw my shoulder against the door, dust falling on me as it finally gave. I rubbed my arm, noticing a dent I had now made in the wood as a gust of sealed air gently blew across my face, the smell like old paper and library books.
I peeked through the small opening, the cat thrusting her head through the crack and twisting it around as though hunting for a mouse. In the small area I allowed myself to view, I could see a large stack of books, cobwebs clinging to them with time, greater than that since Edgar’s death. A dim light was cast upon them, the dust floating through the rays and tickling my nose.
I sneezed then, the cat looking up at me with alarm. “Sorry,” I whispered, her interrupted gaze diverting back to the room.
My mind screamed to go further, but my muscles ceased to move. I was just able to make out the decorative corner of a large canvas on the wall in a deep rich gold which contrasted with the black wallpaper. Finding courage, I pressed against the door but something now blocked it from behind. I pressed again, this time harder but still, the door didn’t give. The cat looked up at me, her eyes questioning mine.
I shrugged toward her, “I’m not sure girl. I think it’s blocked.”
She meowed, as though agreeing. The crack was not quite wide enough to allow her entry and I found myself again staring into the room’s depths, my mind now alive with interest and curiosity. For whatever reason, Edgar had tried to stop me, tried to keep me from knowing what was in here. He should have known better though, I was never the type to shrug it off. Besides, I had the perfect ogre of a man to help me.
As soon as the words crossed my mind, I sensed something behind me and I spun on my heel. My breath was ripped from my lungs, but before a scream could escape my mouth, it was muffled by Sam’s cold dead hand. He had been spying on my actions here and I cringed, finding the fact that I needed him sickening.
“Shh,” his face was right next to mine, his eyes piercing. My heart leaped in my chest, terrified by his strange ghostly presence and the knowledge of his crippling strength holding me at bay. Despite all that I knew about Sam, there was still a side of him that I didn’t yet understand and it was a side of fury and hate, a side Matthew had hidden so well.
The cat let out a sharp hiss, her ears leveling out on her head, threatening him.
Sam laughed and stepped back, his demeanor changing from that of chaos to order. “I totally got you there. You looked as though you’d seen death!”
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. “Could you please help me, if it’s not asking too much,” I snapped.
His laughter calmed and the cat relaxed back, now sitting ruefully on the floor.
He smiled, running his hand through his already messy hair.
“Sure thing toots,” a half smile snaked across his face.
I glared at him.
He pushed passed me, nearly stepping on the cat. She scooted out of the way, her hair now fluffed and agitated. He pushed against the door with his fingers splayed, as though pushing through a cloth drape. Another gust of sealed air fell across me as he easily pushed it open.
“Well then,” he clapped his hands together, as though he’d just finished a hard day’s work, “There you are damsel in distress.”
I tilted my head, “Oh please.”
He nodded, “Yeah, you’re right, I suppose you’re more ‘in distress’ than you are a ‘damsel’.”
To my surprise he stepped back, allowing me my space to explore. It was the first time he hadn’t overstepped his boundaries and I relished in the moment, figuring this may be the only one. He leaned against the hall wall, crossing his arms across his chest, his wings completely hidden behind his back. I glanced at his face with emotionless thought, my mind spinning with the future task.
The cat stood at my side, staring into the dark space, watching as the dust fell around us.
“I’ll be here if you need me,” Sam added as I looked straight ahead, my gaze fixed on no point in particular.
I took a deep breath while I still stood outside the door, more to keep myself from ingesting dust than from fear. I walked in, the towering stack of books now at my side. The cat followed me, her paws leaving a delicate trail of paw prints behind her. I watched in amazement as her tracks seemed to disappear as she walked, much as mine had in the snow last winter, leaving no trace of my existence.
The black walls were littered with paintings, each hung in a careless manner as though thrown onto the hooks off center. The darkened shades of paint told me he had enjoyed a different sort of art than I. One in particular was a scene of extreme violence and I felt a strange tightening in my chest, my thoughts realizing how dark and angry Edgar’s mind was, vindictive and hungry for death. The dark shades of the paintings melted into the darkness of the wallpaper, leaving nothing but the heavy gold frames.
I ran my hand across the cover of a book that was in another stack beside me. Dante was scripted in deep gold through the heavy leather, the binding tied in an ancient manner, suggesting both its age, and the edition. The image of Edgar in my mind had always been dark, but to now be surrounded by his life, his secret life, felt so much darker.
My heart began to race, my mind realizing that the life I knew with Edgar had been so reserved. He had held himself at bay out of his affection for me, hid anything that would give away his anger from the entire world. As I glanced at the paintings that followed, each was also twisted into scenes of gore and terror, pain and anguish, except one. As I approached, the light blues seemed to glow in contrast with the rest of the room. I stood back, seeing it was in the exact center of the wall, framed all around by chaos.
The face that stared out at me was my own, sweet and innocent, loving and deep. My eyes glowed with happiness, and suddenly, all the previous feelings of fear and confusion faded away. Amongst all the darkness, the light of love was undeniable, and I now saw why he did what he did and how he could resist his urge to kill and fight. He had been my love, my protector, my guardian, and his whole existence revolved around me and my renewing breaths of life.
The cat meowed, looking at the same thing as I. “That’s right kitty, that was me.”
My eyes diverted from the paintings to a large oak desk shoved against the wall and I followed a path that had been carved through the hoards of books. I found myself balancing over trinkets from seemingly all walks of life and piles upon piles of crumpled pieces of paper, smeared with thick black ink. There was a large wood chair shoved to the side of the space and I dusted off the seat, coughing as I sat down.
The cat jumped into my lap, putting her front paws on the desk and scanning the things it housed. There was a notebook shoved to the side and I slid it toward us, opening it as the spine creaked and dust slid from the cover and piled in a thin wisp beside it. The pages were scratched with furious bits of notes, things about weather and time, life and thought. There didn’t seem to be any real order to the notes, just moments of opinion. I turned the pages, looking at each scribble and attempting to decipher the mess of words.
Where is she?
I ran my fingers across the heavy ink, written over and over on a number of pages. It had seemed as though he had gotten a taste of life without me, but disliked everything about it.
MATTHEW
Was written in large print across two of the pages, as though a murderous reminder of his hate and ang
er. If Edgar had known he was still alive, I wondered what had kept him from hunting Matthew down. He had the power to prevent the events that had now unfolded, but for whatever reason, he hadn’t. There was a part of me that wondered if he had battled between his hate for Matthew, but then also his brotherly duty.
I closed the book, finding his writings now cold and terrifying as I looked back at the desk itself. There were three drawers set into the back frame and I reached for the first, pulling it open and looking inside. There was a vile of ink and a few pen tips that had been shoved inside, a few now cracked and useless.
I slid the drawer back and moved to the next, slightly larger than the first. I pulled it open with two hands, furling my brow as the drawer stuck for a brief moment as it dragged across the ragged wood. There was a sudden chromatic glitter of colors that shown from within and I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the light, straining my powerful gaze. I reached toward the contents, grabbing a cold handful and bringing it closer to my face.
The cat meowed in a feverish manner.
“Jewels?” I asked, to no one in particular. The cat put her paw on my wrist, lifting her body to look at them as her eyes reflected their beauty. I rolled them around on my palm, my mind racing to comprehend the gravity of the objects value and why he had simply discarded them in a desk drawer as though nothing but trash.
There were rough cuts, cushion cuts, and marquise, all glinting in the dim light, clear and strong. As I bent forward to place the jewels back in the overflowing drawer, my eyes caught the tip of something organic amongst the hoards of glittering jewels. With my other hand, I grabbed the corner of a brown piece of paper that peeked between two rocks, carefully pulling it from the beautiful pile that had drowned its life and misery. I rolled the jewels from my other hand back into the drawer, my curiosity now fixed on the small wad of brown paper in my hand, no longer finding the rubies and emeralds near as distracting as the curious package.
The cat crawled onto the desk as I sat back, my eyes scanning the roughly tied paper. I gingerly unrolled the parcel, now delicately old with age, and nearly transluscent. There was a jingling as the contents came loose in my grasp, now sliding onto my palm as I cradled it.
