by S. J. West
Malcolm turns his back to me to leave, but I clamp my free hand down on his left shoulder and use my strength to spin him around, forcing his back up against the wall of the barn. The hood of his cloak keeps his features in shadows, but I can see his eyes meet mine clearly enough.
“Are you planning to sleep with Celeste DuBois when you go back into that house?” I ask him, making sure there isn't any way he can misunderstand or ignore the question again.
Malcolm's eyebrows lower. “I don't really think that's any of your concern.”
“You know perfectly well why it should be my concern,” I tell him, on the verge of losing my temper. “How can you even think about being with her when I'm right here? Don't you know what that would do to me? Don't you care that it would hurt me?”
“Maybe it will finally make you realize we can never have a future together,” Malcolm says, the words sounding like a lame excuse because they are.
“If that's what you think, then you would only be fooling yourself into thinking that's the truth,” I tell him, not about to let him feel like he has the upper-hand in the situation.
We stare at one another for a moment, and I feel like if he leaves me to go back into that house I might lose him forever.
I gently cup one side of Malcolm's face with my free hand. He closes his eyes, and I see him sigh like my touch brings him comfort, even though he doesn't want to admit it to me or himself. I wish I could make him see reason. I wish I could make him give into what he's feeling in that moment and come to me. I pray that he does it soon because I feel like the window of our future together is closing fast and just the thought of losing him so soon after finally finding him tears me to pieces.
“Stay with me,” I urge him, not wanting to beg but wanting him to know that even after the way he acted that day I still want him. “I could bring happiness back into your life if you wouldn't fight me at every turn, Malcolm.”
I slide my hand from his face down to his bare chest. Malcolm keeps his eyes closed and continues to breathe steadily, not telling me to stop but not giving me any encouragement to continue either.
“I belong here,” I tell him, resting my hand over his heart. “You know that. You have to. I just wish you would stop denying what you feel when we're together. I would give you all of me if you would just take it. You deserve so much, yet you refuse to believe that you do. Stop being so stubborn, Malcolm, and let me in.”
Still, Malcolm says nothing, just stands there with his eyes closed.
He doesn't try to move my hand away, and I feel like that's at least a small victory.
Minutes pass by and I feel like Malcolm is having a silent war with himself about what he should do. I desperately want to take his pain away, both physical and emotional. I want to be the one person in the world he can come to when he needs a shoulder to lean on, and I want to become the love he so richly deserves but doesn't think he does.
“You should try to get some rest,” he finally says to me, opening his eyes but refusing to meet my gaze. “I'll see you in the morning.”
Malcolm pushes himself off the wall and brushes past me as he leaves.
I feel the sting of tears threaten to overwhelm me but force them back. I refuse to give into despair, but I feel like I've reached one of my lowest points.
For some reason, I remember Auggie's words to me when I asked him if he thought I would ever find someone to love me.
“He’s out there somewhere, longing to meet you as much as you are him. And when you finally find one another, God help anyone who tries to come between the two of you.”
I wonder what Auggie would say to me if he knew the person coming between me and the love of my life was actually the man who held my heart but seemed hell bent on refusing to accept it.
I don't feel like there's much else I can do that evening besides storm inside Celeste DuBois's house and make a scene. I have more self-respect than to do something like that. I can't force Malcolm to love me any more than I can make myself stop loving him. Besides, if he doesn't give me his love of his own free will, then what's the point?
Feeling tired all of a sudden, I look around the barn and find a pile of hay on the floor not too far away. It looks sufficiently comfortable enough to sleep on.
I walk over to it, sit the lantern down beside it and throw the green wool blanket on top of it. As I'm unbuckling the belt of the baldric from around my waist, doing my utmost not to think about what might happen to Malcolm while he's in the clutches of one Celeste DuBois, I hear the door to the barn slowly creak open.
I turn my head to look in that direction expecting to see Celeste come in with my promised food, but the person I end up seeing makes me completely stop what I'm doing and turn to face him.
A boy around the age of six years old with chocolate colored skin and spiral textured hair practically sprouting from his scalp, peeks in through the crack of the door. I watch as his adorable little face lights up with joy when he sees me, and I hear him take in an excited breath like he's just found the best present in the world waiting for him. Foregoing shyness, he slams the door open and runs straight to me as fast as his little legs will allow. He lunges his small frame at me, hugging me around the hips and resting one side of his face against my belly.
“I knew you would come,” he says with a mixture of relief and excitement in a voice that is possibly the cutest I've ever heard in my life. “I just knew it!”
I have no idea what to say to this heartfelt declaration.
All I can do is place my hands on his shoulders and gently pry him off of me so I can get a better look at him. I bend down on one knee so that we're at eye level with one another.
Considering he's someone I've never met before in my life, I don't understand the love I see in his startling blue-green eyes for me.
“Who are you?” I ask him.
“My name is Lucas,” he says, smiling at me and inexplicably making me feel happy all of a sudden. The mess of Malcolm is completely pushed to the back of my mind as I look at Lucas.
“How do you know me, Lucas?”
“You're going to be my mommy one day,” he tells me matter-of-factly, still smiling his little smile and sounding so confident I almost believe him.
His answer was definitely not one I was expecting to hear, and I have to admit it takes me a minute to let his words sink in.
“Don't you already have a mother?” I ask gently.
Lucas shakes his head.
“She died a long time ago,” he tells me, his smile faltering as he delivers this sad news. Not to be deterred by the loss of his mother, he smiles again and it not only brightens his face but the dreary barn as well. I notice that he's missing one of his top, front teeth giving him a beatific gap toothed grin. “But, I knew you would come so you could be my mommy. I've been waiting a long time for you, Anna.”
“But,” I'm at a loss for words but have to ask, “what makes you think I'm supposed to be your mother?”
“Because I had a vision of you when I was three-years-old.”
I smile at this statement because of the way Lucas said it, not particularly because of what he said, like at the age of six he's so much older and wiser than he was at three. It's a childlike quality that makes him irresistibly adorable, as if he wasn't already.
I feel sure Lucas simply saw a picture of me somewhere and imagined that I would someday become his mother. But, what in the world is he doing here? Why is he at Celeste DuBois's house?
I'm about to ask him these questions when I hear a woman clear her throat at the door, drawing both of our attentions.
“Now, Lucas,” Celeste says admonishingly, “you were asked not to leave the house. Why are you out here bothering this woman?”
“Because,” Lucas says, looking away from Celeste to me, his face beaming with pride, “I wanted my new mommy to meet me.”
When I look back at Celeste, the expression on her face isn't hard to read. She's fuming mad. What Lucas just said has mad
e her livid, but I'm not sure why.
“Go back into the house before you're missed,” Celeste tells him, keeping her voice calm in an attempt to not betray her true feelings.
Lucas reluctantly begins to walk towards the door, stuffing his hands inside his coat pockets. Before he goes too far, he looks back at me and smiles.
“You'll see I'm right,” he tells me before he walks out the door and into the night, presumably to go back into the whorehouse Celeste DuBois owns.
“Why are you letting a child that age stay in your home?” I ask Celeste as she steps into the barn carrying a wood tray with a plate of food on it covered by a white napkin. “It doesn't seem like the best environment for an impressionable young boy to be living in.”
“Why don't you keep your holier than though opinions to yourself,” Celeste tells me with a snarky attitude. “I'll do what and...whoever I please in my own home, thank you very much, your highness.”
Celeste walks over and hands me the tray rather forcefully.
She smiles a crooked, knowing smile at me as I take it from her.
“In fact,” she says, “Malcolm is waiting for me in my room right now. I just wanted to keep my promise to bring you something of your own to eat while I have a private...and dare I say it....meaty feast of my own.”
My mind goes completely blank for a comeback to such an explicitly suggestive statement. All I can think about now is Malcolm lying in bed with Celeste with her claws all over him.
Seeing that her remark has had the desired effect on me, Celeste smiles and turns to leave.
“Enjoy your meal,” she tells me over her shoulder as she steps out the door and turns around before closing it. “I know I will.”
She slams the door shut, and I'm left alone in the quiet of the barn.
I sit the tray she gave me beside the lantern having completely lost my appetite. I spread out the green wool blanket onto the pile of fresh hay and finish unbuckling the belt of my baldric to set my sword aside.
After I lie down on the blanket, I feel an ache in my chest so heavy I'm certain my heart will stop beating because of the weight of it.
I close my eyes and pray for sleep so I can find succor in the land of dreams.
Unfortunately, my prayer goes unanswered for a long, long, long time...
CHAPTER twenty
The next thing I know the barn door is unceremoniously slung open with a crash drawing me out of my hard fought for sleep.
“Let’s go,” I hear Malcolm say gruffly, startling my sleep addled mind and causing me to jump slightly as I fully awaken. “They’re waiting for us.”
I sit up and look over at Malcolm as he stands in the doorway. The murky morning light from the outside world filters its way into the barn. I just stare at him for a minute, wondering what his night was like. I seriously doubt he feels as miserable as I do.
I can’t seem to pluck up my nerve to inquire how he spent his evening, but I do nod to him letting him know that I heard his surly request.
I stand up from the pile of hay and grab the blanket off to fold and take with me.
When I step out of the barn, I see Jered standing by three horses. Unfortunately, they’re all as big as the last ones we rode.
“Couldn’t find a small one?” I ask Jered when I walk towards him.
“Sorry, they were all out of little white ponies,” Jered tells me with an affable grin.
“How come you don’t like big horses, Anna?”
The question comes from beneath the horse, and I recognize the voice instantly.
I look down to see Lucas’s inquisitive face staring up at me from his squatting position beneath the horse.
“Lucas!” I hear Malcolm bellow, storming over to us and quickly sweeping Lucas into the safety of his arms. “How many times have I told you it’s not safe to crawl underneath a horse like that? It could kill you instantly with just one kick.”
Lucas looks at Malcolm, eyes wide open, and says in a properly contrite voice, “I’m sorry, dad. I forgot. I just wanted to surprise Anna.”
I stand there for a moment and feel totally bewildered.
“Dad?” I ask Malcolm.
“Adopted son,” Malcolm tells me. “Lucas’ parents were killed right after he was born in a freak accident. He didn’t have any other family. So, I brought him home with me.”
And then everything makes perfect sense.
“He’s the package we came to get,” I say, not really needing to have the answer confirmed. A whorehouse was the perfect hiding place for a child. Who would think to look for him inside one? “Where are we taking him?”
“Hopefully, somewhere he’ll be safe,” Malcolm replies. “We can’t exactly take him with us to the places we need to go.”
“But I want to go with you,” Lucas protests. “I don’t like being away from you for so long.”
Malcolm smiles wanly at Lucas. “I know. I don’t either. But, it’s not just for your safety. It’s for ours too. There are bad people who would use your life against us to hurt us.”
“Ok,” Lucas says with a pout, “I understand. Just don’t take too long to do what you gotta do.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Malcolm says, and I see a genuine smile grace his face as he looks at his son. I think it’s the first glimpse of happiness I’ve seen Malcolm express, and I decide then and there that I want to see him happy more often.
“Malcolm!”
We all turn when we hear Celeste's piercing, and somewhat angry, call of Malcolm’s name.
Malcolm walks over to Jered and hands Lucas to him. He strides over to Celeste meeting her halfway across the misty lawn of her backyard. They stop and talk in low but heated voices. Celeste reaches up and slaps Malcolm across the face so hard we all hear the crack. She then storms off back towards her house without a single glance backwards. Malcolm watches her go for a few seconds then turns around, not looking at all bothered by the altercation.
“What was that all about?” I ask.
“She’s mad,” Lucas answers unexpectedly. “She got mad last night because dad wanted to stay in my room with me. I’m not sure why.”
I’m happy to know Lucas doesn’t exactly understand why Celeste is upset. And even happier to discover that Malcolm might have spent the night in a house full of whores, but he obviously didn’t partake of any of the ladies’ wares, not even those of one very vivacious Ms. Celeste DuBois.
“We should probably get going,” Malcolm says, lifting Lucas back into his arms and walking over to the black horse that’s obviously his ride.
Malcolm sits Lucas in the saddle and instructs him to hold on before he walks over to me.
Malcolm takes the blanket from my hands and tosses it to Jered to take care of. He then walks up behind me and places his hands on my waist. I feel the hood of his coat brush against the side of my face as he leans down and whispers, “Are you ready, Anna?”
I nod my head because I suddenly find speaking impossible with his closeness.
Malcolm lifts me easily with his hands and helps me into my saddle.
I look back down at him and say, “Thank you.”
Malcolm gives me an almost reluctant, lopsided grin and nods his head before walking away to mount his own steed, holding Lucas in front of him. I watch as he lightly presses the sides of his horse with his heels signaling it to move forward.
Jered brings his horse up beside my own just as it begins to follow Malcolm’s horse of its own accord.
“You don’t look like you got much sleep last night,” Jered comments with a note of worry.
“I didn’t,” I confess. “I had things on my mind that I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
“Am I right in assuming if you had known a certain someone spent the night in Lucas’ room, you might have gotten more rest?”
I grin and look over at Jered. “I think you’re starting to know me a little too well, Jered.”
Jered laughs. “The day I know a woman too well is the day I a
sk that woman to marry me.”
It's a comment which brings to mind an interesting question.
“Have you not met your soul mate yet, Jered?”
Jered shakes his head. “No, I haven’t been lucky enough to meet her. When the time is right for me to, I’m sure my father will find a way to introduce us.”
“I hope you aren’t as stubborn with her as someone else who shall remain nameless,” I mutter.
Jered chuckles. “I pledge to you that I will do my best to treat her far better.”
I look back at Malcolm and see Lucas peek around the side of his dad to look back at me. The smile on Lucas' face is infectious, and I can't help but smile back. Malcolm gently makes his son sit upright in front of him again.
“By the way, when did you and Lucas meet?” Jered asks me. “I’m a little surprised Malcolm introduced you to him last night.”
“He didn’t,” I confess. “Lucas came to see me in the barn.”
“Really?” Jered asks in surprise. “He’s usually very shy around people he doesn’t know. Did he say why he came to see you?”
“He told me he had a vision about me when he was three-years-old,” I say with a small laugh, thinking such a concept is the fanciful notion of a child who obviously just wants a mother.
Jered doesn’t laugh. Instead, he looks thoughtful.
“It makes perfect sense that you would be the one he saw,” Jered finally says, like pieces of a puzzle are finally forming a picture he can recognize.
“The one he saw?” I ask. “Are you saying you think Lucas actually saw me in some sort of prophetic vision?”
“Do you remember what I told you about the vessels?”
“The ones who carried the archangel’s souls and helped Jess and Mason close the Tear?”
“Yes. Do you remember me telling you about the different powers they possessed because of their archangels?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Lucas is a descendent of Gabe. His archangel gave him the power to see visions about the future.”
“So the power each vessel possessed because of their archangel was passed down?”
