by Lola St. Vil
“Miku’s right. You need to keep it one hundred percent with her. She’s stronger than we give her credit for,” Jay says.
“She got high and went to jail. How is that strong?” I remind them.
“She had a few brownies - it was stupid. But any other person would have done much worse by now. I’m tell’n you, baby girl can handle it,” Jay counters.
I order the team to wait outside, place my hands in my pockets and head up the stairs to hurt the girl I love (again).
“I’m almost ready,” she says as she sits on the bed, lacing up her sneakers.
“Emmy, we need to talk.”
“I know, I know. It sucks and yeah it hurts—a lot. But we’re gonna survive this. Bianca, Lucy, the Sage, no one is going to stop us from being together.”
“I hope not.”
“Marcus, I know this isn’t what you want either. But look, it’s just a marriage on paper. So, who cares, right?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay, what is it?” She asks.
“You know how Angels can’t kiss others when someone else has their Rah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s a way of assuring that both parties have let go of the relationship. The Quo don’t have that rule. But what they do have is a way to ensure that the couples who marry, are truly happy.”
“How would they assure happiness?”
“They have an Exchange clause.”
“I don’t understand…?”
“The couple getting married has to make love to each other. Not only that, but they have to have an Exchange. In human terms, if they both don’t have an orgasm, the marriage is then nullified.”
“Marcus, are you saying you have to have sex with Bianca in order for the marriage to count?”
“Not every night; just the first night.”
“You’re telling me that you’re gonna have sex with Bianca?”
“Yes.”
The scream comes from outside. I turn my head towards the door and see Rio doubled over on the ground. Miku and Jay tend to him but whatever they are doing is not helping. He cries out in excruciating pain.
In between screams, Rio shouts out to me with a tortured voice.
“It’s Emmy… she’s… killing me.”
That’s when I understand: whatever Emmy is feeling is so strong, it’s overpowering Rio’s ability. This has happened before but, normally, when Rio is overwhelmed by one person’s emotions, he can fly away. But this time it’s different. Rio can’t fly. In fact Rio can’t do anything but lie on the ground and wail.
I go to Emmy to fly her away from here and save Rio in the process. She’s shaking and crying on the edge of the bed. I place my hand on her shoulder - Rio cries out.
“NO, NOT MARCUS!!!”
I see why Rio protests. My touching Emmy only causes her body to be rocked by violent sobs. I want to hold her. I want to make everything better but Rio is dying and Emmy can’t even bare to look at me.
I call out to Jay; he runs into the cabin, and up the stairs.
He scoops her up from the bed; she wraps her arms around his neck.
“I got you, baby girl,” Jay says as he flies away with my girl.
It takes a full hour before Rio is able to fly again. Jay calls my cell and tells me he’s taken Emmy home. He also tells me to give her some time because this is hard on her.
“You really think I need you to tell me that?” I snap.
“Yo, be easy. I’m just telling you she isn’t doing well with this.”
“You said she was strong enough for this!”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt. C’mon, Marcus. She just learned you gonna be do’n some Quo chick!”
“I’m coming over there.”
“Fine, but we need to be back in the underground city today. Or we’re screwed,” he reminds me.
“I know.”
“Marcus?”
“What?”
“Emmy may not be as strong as I thought. In fact, there’s very little keeping her together.”
“I’ll take care of her.”
I hang up and tell the team to go ahead and I’ll catch up. I fly to her apartment in Manhattan.
The door is unlocked. Jay waits for me to enter, then leaves the two of us alone.
She’s sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked beneath her.
“You okay?” I ask her.
No, Marcus, she’s not okay, you idiot!
She nods and apologizes for causing a scene. She asks if Rio is okay and begs me to tell him how sorry she is that she caused him such pain.
“He knows,” I assure her. She nods but is facing away from me. I go over to the sofa and sit next to her. “Can you look at me please?” I request.
She turns to face me. The whites of her eyes are red. When you add that to the usual purple of her iris, her eyes look bizarre and intense.
She’s wearing the same thing she wore in the cabin but she’s added a grey button down sweater that looks to be twice her size. I’m guessing it was her mom’s. She wraps herself inside it as if it can somehow shield her from what’s happening.
“Can we talk?”
“No.”
“Please? We really need to.”
“I don’t wanna talk to you.”
“Why?”
“BECAUSE YOU’RE ALWAYS BREAKING MY FUCKING HEART AND I HATE YOU!” Her words tear into my chest, rip out my insides and hurl them to the ground. But while her words hurt, the thing that’s even more painful is where those words came from; the deepest part of her soul.
Emmy’s not just angry and lashing out. She’s being completely honest. And it’s that brutal honesty that causes a crippling sadness in me.
Suddenly, I’m embarrassed to be there with her, knowing that she hates me so much. I open my mouth but there are no words. Since we met, I’ve been hurting her. Since the day I landed in her life, she’s faced unimaginable losses and inhumane torture.
But I didn’t think she actually hated me…
“I didn’t realize… I’m sorry… I’ll go,” I whisper as I get up from sofa and head to the door.
“Good, go! Get out! I hate you!” She shouts. And without warning she hurls the nearby lamp at my head.
I duck just in time; it hits the door and shatters.
“Emmy!”
“Shut up. Don’t say my name. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” By now she is literally throwing anything she can find at me. I’m dodging picture frames, books, and tons of miniature statues. When I finally get close enough to stop her, I take her hands in mine. She screams at the top of her lungs.
“Let me go, I hate you!”
She repeats it over and over again, each time with more venom. She twists and turns her arms to get out of my grip. I have no choice but to let her go, fearing she will end up breaking her own arm. Once she is free, she gives up on throwing things and is now attacking me.
She lands punch after punch into the center of my chest. She’s hurting herself and causing no harm to me, whatsoever. But that doesn’t stop her. She continues to attack and yell how much she hates me.
Finally, fearful of the damage she will cause to herself, I effortlessly lift her several feet into the air, and gently back her against the wall, with her arms folded. She screams and cries but I don’t let her go.
She doesn’t stop wailing over and over again that she hates me. Angry tears stream down her red, puffy face. Her legs bang against the wall as she tries to break free of my hold. I call out to her to calm down but that just makes her fight me harder.
I want to make eye contact so that she knows I get it; I know she hates me. I know she’s had enough and that it’s over. I don’t know how I will deal with losing her, yet again. But that comes later. Right now, all that matters is her safety and wellbeing.
I gently take her face in my hand. I try to prepare myself; the girl I love will be looking back at me with
bitterness and loathing. But when I look into her tear-filled eyes, that’s not what I see.
The hardened, pissed off girl who’s been attacking me, isn’t hardened, or even pissed.
She’s scared it’s over between us for real this time…
“Baby, I love you,” I assure her.
“I hate you,” she says, trying to convince herself.
“I know.”
“I do; I hate you,” she says, refusing let the anger die.
“I know,” I reply softly as I put her back down on the living room floor.
“I’m not in love with you, Marcus. I don’t care what happens to you. You can do whatever you want with Bianca because I don’t care,” she lies as she sobs into my chest. We are only a whisper apart; trying not to kiss takes up all our energy.
“You want me to leave?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says firmly.
I stay where I am.
“Marcus, I’m serious. Get out,” she orders.
I stay where I am.
“Because you hate me?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Emmy?”
“What?”
“I hate you, too.”
She stands on the tips of her toes, places my face between her hands and kisses me hungrily. I growl and eagerly receive her lips and tongue. She leaps into my arms and wraps her legs around me. I carefully navigate the ransacked living room and take her to her bedroom.
By the time we land on her bed, our kisses go from seeking to out-right demanding. She pulls off my shirt and throws it to the floor. She then gets on top of me and takes off her shirt. She quickly unhooks her bra and begins to kiss my bare chest.
She’s like a tornado; powerful and unpredictable. As I stroke her beautiful hair and she kisses my neck, I can’t help but think something is wrong. Then, she whispers in my ear.
“This is so you won’t forget.”
I lift her off of me and gently place her on the bed. I gather her clothes and give them to her.
“What’s wrong?” She asks, confused.
I kneel in front of her and take her hand in mine.
“Emmy, I don’t have to have sex with you to remember how much I love you.”
“You’re gonna be with Bianca and there’s nothing I can do about it. I want the memory of us to stay with you.”
“‘Us’ is never far from my mind; or my heart.”
“You’re gonna make love to her and I won’t matter anymore,” she cries.
“We’re not making love. We’re just…having sex,” I remind her.
“So? You and I had sex and it got us back together.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“We didn’t fall in love because we had sex; we had sex because we were in love. One night with Bianca won’t change that.”
“You’re gonna hold her…caress her…you’re gonna be inside her. Marcus, how do I make myself okay with that?” She begs.
A sharp pain crosses my chest. I know she’s picturing Bianca and I together. I know what it’s doing to her is worse than any torture she’s ever faced.
“When I kissed you, held you, made love to you, I did those things because I wanted to. Bianca can make me marry her but I will never want her the way I want you.”
“Marcus, I don’t think I can handle this,” she pleads.
“You can. Please, don’t give up on us; I can’t lose you again.”
“How are we supposed to do this?” She asks.
“We’ll make vows to each other: I vow not to let Bianca near my heart because it belongs to you.”
“I vow to remember our love is stronger than any Exchange clause and not to give up on us.”
“You promise?” I ask desperately.
“I do.”
“Seriously, Emmy, things can get…crazy… once Bianca and I are married. Promise you won’t forget how much I love you. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
I embrace her tightly and whisper in her ear.
“We’re going to get our happy ending, baby. I swear to Omnis, we are.”
CHAPTER FOUR:
THE ADVISOR
Emmy and I stand just outside the entrance to the underground city of Cree. I called the team before we left New York and told them to tell Dalce the deal is back on. Miku has already texted me that Dalce has thrown together a quick ceremony and they are waiting for me in order to proceed. Emmy seems to be taking it well. That is, as well as anyone can take something like this.
Before we left, she had taken a quick shower. Her hair is still wet and smells like jasmine, thanks to her shampoo. She’s wearing a simple summer dress with little flowers on it. She’s the kind of girl who doesn’t have to try to be beautiful; she just is. I want more than anything to marry her.
In a perfect world, Emerson Hope Baxter would be the last girl I kiss.
“Hey, you okay?” She asks.
“Yeah, I was just thinking how beautiful you are.”
“Yeah, well, the wet look is in this year; even among the Quo,” she says smiling.
I take her hand in mine.
“Thank you for understanding why I have to do this. No other girl would get it,” I share with her.
“When we finally beat the Sage, find the Alphas, and a new Council is formed, you’re gonna owe me big.”
“How big?”
“Big,” she assures me.
“You mean, I’m going to have to buy you something from Tiffany’s?”
“Something? No, everything,” she jokes.
“Done. Now, is there anything else I can do to make this easier?”
“Yeah, actually there is: I don’t want to know about the night you two spend together.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yes. I don’t ever want to hear about it.”
“Okay.”
“Are you ready?” She asks.
“No, I want a last kiss. I mean our last kiss for awhile. And you better make it good,” I tease.
She smiles with her eyes and closes the gap between us. She stands on the tips of her toes; I lean in and close my eyes as our lips touch.
The blinding light appears quickly and expands between us. Before I can do anything about it, the light lifts Emmy up in the air and hurls her across the canyon. I take off into the air and find where she has been thrown. She’s on the ground groaning and rubbing the back of her head.
“Baby, are you okay?”
“So, I’m guessing Bianca has your Rah now?” Emmy asks as she winces.
“Yeah, normally the two of us would put it in the mountain together but I guess we’re so pressed for time, Bianca did it herself.”
“Wow, that wife of yours sure is thoughtful,” she counters.
I frown at her remark.
“Sorry, it’s just…I thought we’d get a last kiss,” she confides.
“Me too. But we did kiss back at the apartment.”
“Yeah, that was nice,” she says touching my cheek with her hand.
“How’s your head?”
“Hey, any time I don’t land in a dumpster, I consider it a good day,” she jokes.
“I love how you do that.”
“What?”
“Find something good in everything.”
“We better get in there,” she says quietly. The smile in her voice is gone. I can understand that. It’s enough that she has to endure this, I can’t ask her to smile about it. We head back to the entrance of Cree. “Marcus?” She calls to me.
“Yeah?”
“Let go.”
I look down and realize I’m till holding her hand. We can’t enter the City of Cree holding hands.
The Quo have to believe that Emmy and I are over. They have to feel that I am genuinely into this union. In order for that to happen, I have to do that what I never wanted to do again: Let go of Emmy’s hand.
Cree is only a few miles long. We can see the entire city from the entrance of the whirlwind
. I actually like Cree because while it’s simple, it’s also very inviting. The rooms are carved into the side of the mountains. The rust colored earth gives the whole city a soft golden glow. Normally there are a few Quo and Angels milling among each other, talking politics and doing the chores needed to keep the city running.
However, the small city of Cree is different today; it has been turned into wedding central. There’s a tent with four pillars, standing in the middle of the city. The pillars have silver ribbons that coil around and unravel into sliver shadows.
“When did they have time to get Shadow servants?” I wonder out loud.
“I’ve never seen so many,” Emmy replies.
We watch in awe as dozens of shadow servants set up a dinning area a few yards from the tent. I don’t even notice Tony-Tone until I hear his voice.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He asks.
We turn to face him. He gives us a big ‘salesman’ smile.
“You had something to do with this?” I ask.
“I recommended the decorator, Tonya; we had a thing once. Actually, she still has a thing for me,” he brags shamelessly.
“Nice to know, Tony,” I reply.
“Doesn’t this place look spectacular?” Tony asks.
“Yeah, everything looks nice,” Emmy says, almost to herself.
“Nice? C’mon this set up is amazing! Bianca has excellent taste. She chose exquisite colors to combine: Jade, champagne and sliver. The table cloths are champagne with jade table runners and silver rimmed dinning plates.”
We both look at him strangely.
“Tonya’s been teaching me. Who knows, I might have a second career; Seller by night, decorator by day. I am a man of many talents.”
“That’s nice,” Emmy says, avoiding my eyes.
Anyone could tell she didn’t really want to hear the wedding details. Well, anyone but Tony-Tone. He continued as if he was hosting his own version of the Martha Stewart show.
“Now the trick was to sit a hundred or so guest but not make it seem crowded. Tonya and I managed that with the lighting,” he says pointing to the champagne and silver orbs floating throughout the city.
“But the best thing about this has to be what Bianca’s wearing. Her wedding dress is even better than the original one she chose. It’s a champagne colored, strapless princess gown.” Tony, shut up…
