by Zoey Derrick
“I don’t know. I left her dead, she was dead when I left.” He begins mumbling – low and incoherently - and twitches as though he can’t stand his own skin.
“Ah, but she is not dead. If she were dead, I’d have all my powers back, and...” Suddenly the room is lit up by a bright white flash. The air is instantly charged, static making hair stand on end, and the young man crumples to the ground. “And I’d be able to kill you.”
“No! Don’t. Don’t hurt him,” a female voice says, and a girl runs from behind a rock to be at the young man’s side.
“Who are you?” the dark, mysterious man shouts.
“What are you doing to him?” She looks down at the crumpled form on the floor and reaches out to touch his dirty blond hair. Looking up in the direction of the voice. “Who are you?”
A deep, throaty laugh comes from the man in the shadows, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention. “I am your worst nightmare, child.”
The echo of heavy footsteps across the rock floor fills the cave, each step getting closer. She cowers, trying to pull the young man with her, but she fails. She lets him slump to the ground as she scrambles backwards on her hands and feet.
“What are you going to do to me?” she whispers breathlessly. Her body shakes in fear.
There is no response as the shadowy figure keeps walking closer with slow, measured steps.
“It is not you I wish to harm, child. It is this boy who needs a lesson in obedience.” There is an edge of reverence in his voice, as though he’s longing for something.
“What are you going to do to him?” she asks, the fear dropping away from her voice.
“If he’d done what he was supposed to do, I’d do nothing to him. But he has failed me and he deserves to be punished, perhaps tortured.” The voice is menacing and yet also strangely enticing to her.
“Take me instead,” she says, and she rises to her feet.
The footsteps stop. “What would I want with you, girl?”
“Anything, everything. Let Riley go and take me instead.”
“Tell me your name, child.” It comes out a growl.
“Nyssa.”
ONE
**Vivienne**
I feel amazing, but why?
I look around, but there is nothing to see, nothing to look at, but solid white. Am I dead?
"No, darling, you are very much alive."
I spin around, trying to find the source of the gentle female voice, but I see nothing more than the white walls surrounding me.
"Who are you?" My voice is calm, but inside anxiety spikes at the unfamiliar voice.
"I'm here to help guide you," the voice says. It is soft, gentle and reassuring, but I'm still confused. "Someone is waiting for you down that hallway behind you."
I turn around hastily and am momentarily thrown off balance. Oh yeah, my wings, I think, as though I've had them my entire life, and flex my shoulders. A part of my mind – the part that knows I’ve never had wings – finds it odd that I’m so unconcerned about it.
After a moment, I regain my balance and begin heading down the hallway, and my heart starts to pound at the idea of what's waiting for me at the end.
As I'm walking, I take a look down at my dress. It's soft and white, with silver beads along the bodice in an intricate design below my breasts. My chest looks bigger - a lot bigger - than I remember, but looking down beyond them I can see why.
Standing out in perfect roundness is my baby bump, no longer a bump but very much a pregnant belly. I stroke it absently and note the silver, cuff-like bracelet around my wrist, its beautiful Celtic design highlighted by a shiny white stone in the center. The cuff extends down the back of my hand almost to my knuckle with its very detailed design.
Then I realize that there is also something cool pressing against my forehead. I can't see it, and when I try to pull on it, it tugs at my hair, so I leave it alone. It feels like a tiara or some type of headpiece.
I keep walking further down the hall; it's long and narrow, with no end in sight. I can't imagine how big this place is with a hall this long. My feet make no sound against the floor and I realize that I'm barefoot.
After a few moments more, I see something up ahead. A figure. I can't make out the details, but a rapidly growing longing churns inside me, and I quicken my pace.
But no matter how far I go, I just can't quite get there. Frustration boils. I'm reminded of a never-ending nightmare and my heart rate increases with unease.
Finally the figure comes into better focus. It's a man, shirtless and sporting an intricate black tattoo along his right shoulder and down his right arm. His skin has a nice tan tone to it against all the white behind him and the white pants he's wearing. His black hair is tousled as though he's been sleeping. Seeing the image as a whole sends a jolt of desire throughout my entire body. Every nerve is alive with an urgent need to be close to him.
And then an undercurrent of fear washes through me as the idea that I could need or want someone this much washes through me. I've never desired anyone before.
Mikah? I ask myself. Could it really be him? What is he doing here? How did he get here?
The wings, the fact that I don't know that I've ever felt this good in my life...this has to be heaven; there is no other explanation for it, despite what I was told earlier. But if I'm in heaven, what is Mikah doing here? And does this mean I’m dead?
That female voice from earlier returns in the same friendly tones as before. "You are not in heaven, my dear. You are in Elysium, a place where only a few chosen are allowed to travel. Your presence here has nothing to do with being dead. You are very much alive.”
"Who are you?" I ask again.
"My name is Zirah, and I am your guide."
"Guide for what?"
"I am here to help you understand all the changes your body is going through. Mainly, I'm here to help you understand that you, my child, are a Chosen. You are an angel."
Suddenly the view in front of me shifts. The room is an ominous grayish-black. I blink a few times, adjusting to the dark after the stark white of a few moments ago.
There is a bright flash up ahead that lights up the room, and I hear a girl scream. Picking up my skirt, I run as quickly as I can manage on the rocky floor. A hot flame arcs across my back, and my wings twitch. I look over my shoulder, but there is nothing there. The flame grows hotter but is not yet painful as I approach the place where the flash of light came from.
"What would I want with you, little girl?"
"Anything, everything. Let Riley go and take me instead."
"What is your name, child?" The deep, menacing voice echoes through the cavern.
"Nyssa."
TWO
"Vivienne.... Vivienne, come on. Wake up."
That voice. I...I know him. I know that voice.
"Come on, sweetie. It's time to go home."
What?
My eyes begin to flutter open. I see his eyes – blue and green mixed to create the most beautiful effect that mimics the ocean – and they are warm, caring...and there is something else in them that I can't name.
"There you are," he whispers. "You were having a nightmare."
I can feel my mouth make that O shape, but nothing comes out.
"It's alright, you're safe."
I blink a couple of times, trying to shake the dream I was having and bring myself back into the present. Instinctively I know what I was hearing, but how? Why? Why me? Why was Nyssa in my dream? I couldn't see her, but is it possible that it really is the Nyssa I know? Instinct tells me that it is.
"Hi," I grumble sleepily to Mikah.
He smiles at me. "Hi. You ready to go?"
I nod my head. My neck, though I've played it off, is still a little sore. I've managed not to look in the mirror, but for as much pain as I was in when it happened, my arm doesn't hurt at all. I’ve finally ditched the sling, but Dr. Alston is making me keep the brace on my wrist. It seems utterly pointless, but
I'm not going to argue anymore.
An orderly comes into the room pushing a wheelchair. At least this one doesn't have the stupid yellow flag on top of the pole like the one earlier did.
I let out a sigh. I get to leave the hospital, but I’ve capitulated to Mikah’s demand to take me back to his apartment – or rather to a different one originally meant for his housekeeper, Celeste. A part of me wonders whether or not he’ll actually let me stay in that apartment or whether he’ll try to convince me to stay in his.
But the fact remains: The longer I thought about whether or not to go with Mikah, the more I realized that I couldn't come up with any rational reasons to not go. Riley is still on the loose, and no matter where I go, he can always search for me. The idea of Mikah getting hurt makes my heart constrict, but Red will be there, too.
Furthermore, Dr. Alston and Nurse Fang – Amanda – have told me that I can't work again until after I see Alston in a couple of weeks, which means I can't afford my apartment anymore.
My apartment. It suddenly dawns on me Mikah is right: I won't ever be able to go back there again. The memories are too horrible, and I know that I’d never feel safe there again. But I also know that there are things there that I want.
I turn to Mikah as he helps me get down off of the hospital bed and whisper, "I need to go back to my apartment first. My stuff," I say, not wanting to display the fear I'm feeling about going back there.
His eyes widen a fraction. "What's in your apartment that you need?" he asks.
"My journal, my clothes, and the picture you gave me." My breath hitches at the idea of my baby's ultrasound picture.
Mikah stiffens at the mention of the picture. His eyes take on a very distant, thoughtful look, almost as though he is trying to recall something. "Where are the picture and your journal?"
"The picture is next to my bed, and the journal is under the foot of the bed, wedged between the pallet and the mattress."
He doesn't respond but rather reaches for his phone as he helps me sit in the wheelchair. He presses a button and puts it to his ear.
"Are you ready to go, Ms. Callahan?" the orderly behind me asks.
"I just need my stuff."
I spot a rather expensive duffle bag sitting at the foot of the bed.
"Red, can you go to Vivienne's apartment and collect a picture and her journal?"
"What about my clothes?" I say as Mikah reaches for the bag. He holds up one finger.
Slinging the duffle over his shoulder, he looks to the man behind me. "Let's go." But he hasn't said anything to Red about my clothes. "When did you do that?" he says into the phone. "Oh, okay then. Wait, what about the picture?" My heart sinks as Mikah's face falls. "I'll tell her. Thanks, Red."
He pulls the phone from his ear, presses a button, then puts it back to his ear as he walks alongside me, not giving me a chance to say anything.
"Celeste, we're leaving the hospital now. Were you able to take-" He cuts off.
"Perfect, thank you. We'll be home shortly. I'm going to take her downstairs." He pauses. "Okay, thanks."
We stop in front of the elevators. As Mikah pulls the phone away from his ear, the orderly hits the down arrow and I turn toward Mikah. "What about my picture?" I say. My tone is clipped, irritated.
Mikah's eyes dart to mine; they're wary. "The picture was gone when Red went by your apartment last night."
My heart sinks. I loved that picture. But where could it have gone? Why is it gone? Did Riley take it?
"Celeste already ordered a new frame, same as the other one. It should be here by Tuesday. And I still have the original picture, so I can replace the image."
"Thank you," I say quietly, still contemplating where the photo could’ve gone in the first place.
"You're welcome." He smiles. "Red took care of your apartment. Cleaned it up and moved all your stuff to the condo."
I nod, relieved that I don't have to deal with it myself but still sorry to see the apartment and my independence go, at least for now.
We ride the elevator down in silence. As we approach the entrance of the hospital, through the glass doors I see a limo parked in front of the door. I can't tell, but I'm pretty sure that it is the same one from a couple weeks back. We come through the double doors and there are two men standing on either side of the car, both very tall with broad shoulders. One has bright red hair, similar in color to my own, but in a short military cut. The other has darker hair, also cut short, but not as short as the first one’s.
My heart rate increases and anxiety flares as we come through the door. The one with red hair moves to the back door of the limo and opens it. Mikah hands him the bags, and he moves around to the trunk. My nerves settle a little as understanding registers: These are more of Mikah's men.
As Mikah extends his hand to me, I catch the orderly’s movement in the corner of my eye. I flinch, panic washing through me, and I jerk away from him. He reaches for the wheel lock on the chair. On my other side, I can see Mikah's hand, but I'm frozen in place. Then I realize all the orderly is doing is securing the wheelchair.
"Vivienne," I hear Mikah say quietly, and I turn stiffly in his direction. He mouths, "It's okay." I feel the fear wash out of me and I place my hand in his.
Stepping out of the wheelchair, I’m steadied by Mikah, who says to the orderly, "Thank you."
"Have a safe trip home," the orderly replies and wheels the empty chair back into the hospital.
THREE
Mikah leads me to the door of the limo and urges me to climb in. My hesitation to do so doesn’t go unnoticed by him.
"Andrew?"
"Sir?" the dark-haired one replies.
"Can you hit the interior lights and roll down the windows?" Mikah asks him.
I try but fail to smile at Mikah's quick thinking.
"Yes, sir," Andrew says, and I watch as the interior lights come on and the windows go down. I even catch motion in the top as the sunroof opens.
"Thanks," I say so only Mikah can hear me.
"Of course." He starts again to help me into the limo, and this time I go a little more freely, as I can see everything inside. "If you sit up toward the front, you won't be as cold."
I clamber up to the small bench seat, not at the front but on the driver’s side, and I sit down.
Mikah follows behind me, taking the seat next to me, his back to the driver. I shiver slightly as the colder air registers, and he puts out his arm. I slide closer to him and rest my head on his shoulder. In a slow, calculated move he brings his hand down so that his arm is along my back and his hand is on my hip. Holding me to him, he lightly kisses the top of my head.
We ride in silence, me fighting heavy eyes as exhaustion tries to consume me. I close my eyes but don't fall asleep.
I replay my dream - the one in the white hallway - trying hard to make sense of it.
I felt so alive, so free, and yet so well-protected, like nothing could hurt me, like I could feel no pain.
An angel? How is that even possible?
I don't get much time to linger on these thoughts before I feel Mikah squeeze a little tighter against my hip. "Wake up, sweetheart. We’re here."
I blink my eyes a couple of times. I feel slightly energized. But I can still feel the worry and fear in my body, not because I’m afraid I’ll be unwelcome or even that I’ll overstay my welcome, but because of the emotions I feel for Mikah. I’ve given up everything I've earned for myself to come here.
He slowly pulls his arm away from me and I sit up. Feeling heavy and uncoordinated, like I'm just waking up, I rub my eyes and then look out the window. A man dressed in livery is coming through a revolving door and heading straight for the limo at a rather intense speed.
I freeze. I don't know who he is or why he's charging toward us.
Mikah notices my hesitation and is quick to explain. "That's Arthur. He's the building doorman."
I nod slowly as Arthur moves to the back of the limo where Andrew, I think, is opening the tr
unk for the bags.
Mikah slides past me to the door just as the red-haired gentleman opens it. Mikah climbs out. "Thank you, Connor." I smile a little at the name; it doesn't suit him at all.
As I start to get out of the limo, Mikah holds out his hand, almost automatically, and I use him to climb out. Standing next to Connor I feel like a child standing next to her dad. He has at least a foot and half on me, and he’s taller even than Mikah.
Mikah leads me to the doors, but he bypasses the revolving door for the normal one. I can't help but smile at the idea that he's using it because of my claustrophobia. He really does pay attention. But I also notice that he doesn't let go of my hand as we walk through the door.
FOUR
Stepping inside the building, I see that the lobby décor is all tan and neutral tones with accents of black in the furniture. Opposite the door we've just come in is a security desk with a man sitting behind it.
"Good day, Mr. Blake."
"Hello, Charlie," Mikah replies to the man behind the counter. He's much older, heavyset with gray hair and glasses. He stands up in greeting as we pass toward the hallway to the right of the desk, and I find it comforting in some strange way to see a gun on his right hip.
We reach a bank of elevators but keep going, passing four different sets of doors until we come to the end of the hall. Directly in front of us is another set of elevator doors, and Mikah presses the up arrow. "This is the only elevator that will reach my apartment and where we're going."
As soon as he finishes, the bell chimes and I jump slightly. I know my fear is due to the fact that we're so exposed. Once we're in Mikah's apartment, I know I'll feel better.
As we step into the elevator, I see Connor and Arthur coming in through the front doors. Arthur has the duffle bag. "Shouldn't we wait for them?" I ask, pointing in their direction.
"Nope, we're good to go up."
Mikah places a key card in a slot below the two buttons, then pushes the button for the sixth floor. I’d expected him to push the button for the seventh, assuming Mikah’s apartment would be on the top floor.
