by Kade Cook
Rachael lifts her brow and sighs, looking down at her toast. Her iridescent aura twitches with her slight irritation of the unwanted intrusion. “Of course, Elder Ariah, your requests are never an imposition, I will just eat later.” She knows that toast for supper isn’t anything spectacular but the thought of letting it get cold pushes her into a mood. Or maybe that is just what she tells herself.
“Thank you, Rachael, we shall arrive momentarily.”
“Of course, Elder.”
The blue slowly disappears back into the center of her pupils from where it had arrived, leaving her irises their original pale green. Ariah may have left her mind but her aura continues to flicker, knowing the true meaning for the visit. They are here to get the dirt on Gabrian—expecting Rachael to squeal on her best friend like she was asked before, with the assumption that she knows something they don’t about her condition.
But little do they know, it’s going to be nothing more than a waste of time for them, though thoughts of seeing Elder Orroryn balance out the delay in Rachael’s consumption of her soon to be cold toast.
Her mouth twists as she runs her teeth across her bottom lip, imagining his large lumberjack-shaped body and how it would fill up what little space she has to spare in her tiny apartment. Her mind dances over images of his irrefutable perfected form. A subtle shade of rose grows across her cheeks—warming her insides then blossoming across her face when the muse of her heated daydreams steps out from the shadowy cover of her bedroom door in front of her.
Her eyes widen and she swallows down a quick ragged breath. Not because she is alarmed but from the abundance of unladylike thoughts playing through her mind upon Orroryn’s entrance.
“Lady Rachael of Vindere,” he announces. Orroryn’s mouth creeps upward into a crooked grin as he whispers her name, as if he is reading the content of her private thoughts.
“Elder Orroryn,” Rachael chokes out and nods, trying to regain control over herself, not to mention trying to find a level of respect for the man she had just daydreamed of. “Can I offer you anything while we wait for the others?” She leaves him alone in her bedroom archway, trying to get away from his lustrous sea green gaze and busy herself so she doesn’t feel so guilty. “I don’t have any tea,” she yells, continuing to search frantically through her cupboards. “I haven’t been to the market yet but I am sure...”
“No, thank you. Rachael. I am fine. Don’t trouble yourself on my account.”
Her breath catches in her chest at the sound of his smooth voice as it echoes off the empty walls, filling the void room with warmth.
“It’s no trouble,” she stammers, hating how he flusters her so easily, but her body doesn’t protest too much as she soaks every ounce of his electricity in through her senses. She’s glad to be out of the line of target from his intense presence. Her eyes search the cupboards for something else to offer him when the fridge purrs on cue to catch her attention. Something cold—yes, she needs an excuse to cool herself down.
She had always thought he was attractive, but lately, every time she gets near him or hears his name spoken, she lights up like drywood doused in gasoline. Everything about him seems to strike the match.
Jerking the fridge door open and ducking inside, she lets the brisk rush of air wash over her face, desperately seeking a beverage. From behind the large jug of milk, she spies some beer. Retrieving the first one she can reach, she turns toward her waiting guest, letting the door slam closed behind her. She flips the top off quickly and heads for the main room.
Where one had stood, now there are three.
Vaeda’s portal she and Ariah had just exited is now merely fragments of spinning light, fading into oblivion as Rachael enters the room.
All three are huddled closely together, talking in hushed tones low enough that Racheal cannot make out what is being said though she is quite certain she can guess who they are discussing.
She stops at the edge of her living room, not wanting to disturb them even though they seem to have no problem disrupting her evening. Regardless of the slight imposition, they are still her Elders, and that she must respect—sort of. She watches for a moment but then clears her throat just loud enough to be noticed in her own home.
The deafening boom of silence echoes as they all turn to focus on their host.
“Ah, Rachael, my dear,” Vaeda warmly addresses her. “Thank you again for seeing us on such short notice. We hope that we are not interrupting anything important.”
Racheal’s mind jumps to her toast, sitting cold and alone on the cupboard, but shakes her head no. “It’s fine.” Her eyes glance down at the coolness in her fingers, and she raises the bottle of beer she is clasping in front of her, stepping forward to deliver the beverage. Holding the bottle out to Orroryn, his fingertips graze over the top of hers as he takes the drink from her and the small exchange of touch burns her skin, spreading through the rest of her like wildfire. She lets go quickly, disconnecting the connection and folds her arms across her chest, turning her attention to her other guests.
“Can I get either of you anything? I am out of tea but...”
Ariah raises her hand and shakes her head. “No, that won’t be necessary, Rachael. We don’t plan on staying long and taking up your time.”
“Really, it is no trouble.”
Both women smile warmly but shake their heads no.
“Okay, excuse me a moment, I will be right back.” She pivots on her heels and heads back toward the fridge for the cold beer she had seen hiding behind the milk. With the reaction that Orroryn is having on her, she is going to need something to fidget with during this meeting to distract her for however long they intend to stay.
Popping the top, she takes a long drink, swallowing hard, and turns to head back to face the inquisition of her Elders. “So,” she huffs, “What can I do for you all this evening?” Knowing full well the topic of tonight’s question and answer period.
“Well, we have been discussing a few issues that arose from our last Covenant of Shadows meeting—something that concerns Gabrian.”
Here it comes, she complains in silence but retorts out loud, “I see.”
“And we have noticed that she seems to be under a bit of duress, not quite herself.”
Rachael’s face involuntarily contorts awkwardly at their blasé attitude. A bit of duress? she grumbles under her tongue. The girl has been to hell and back and they’re wondering why she is not her chipper self. Really?
“And since you are her best friend and our best witness to her behaviors, we thought that maybe you can let us in on how she is truly handling everything.”
“Oh, I see,” Rachael spits out again, raising the bottle to her mouth, and rests it mindlessly against her pouted lips. She nods as if she is pondering a great relevance of Gabrian’s odd behavior but in fact is actually trying to find the right words to let them down. She finally lifts the bottle to allow some of the golden liquid to enter her mouth, swallowing her liquid courage.
“Well, let’s see. How do I say this?” Rachael twists her lips and pinches her eyes for a second then speaks again. “I have no idea.”
The trio’s glances dance around the room, bouncing off each other in a wild flurry as if the words were in a foreign language they cannot comprehend. Their faces remain calm but a silent exchange takes place between them that Rachael is not privy to.
“What do you mean you do not know?” Ariah squeaks, her eyes wide and shifting as if embarrassed by the youngling’s abrupt answer. Her tone corrects as she continues her question. “Don’t you see her every day?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And you are telling me that you do not know the condition of her well-being?”
“Yes, I am,” Rachael answers, unbothered by her Elder’s expectant glare.
“I am sorry but I do not understand how...”
Rachael huffs and takes a quick drink. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t really spoken to her much since she survived the attack
and we started work in Ethan’s office—nothing more than business talk, getting everything set up here and closing up in Manhattan. She has been stuck to Shane like glue which I understand, the whole ‘love thing’ and all,” she says, giving the air quote signs as she does. “I get that, but it’s almost like she is avoiding me. Her looks and actions remind me of when she...”
Rachael’s mind screams out at her to shut up, reminding her of the scared and tortured look Gabrian wore upon her face when she realized what she had done to all those people in the park in Manhattan not so long ago—how she had stolen their life essences and nearly killed them in the process. Gabrian’s eyes seem to carry the same panicked look now as they did then.
Rachael gasps in mid-sentence to her Elders, maybe having realized why Gabrian is not talking to her. She knows Rachael will make her tell her what is really going on with her.
“When she what, dear?” Vaeda’s voice invades Rachael’s unshared epiphany as she tries to nudge Rachael on with her confession.
Determining that she may have uncovered some real truth to Gabrian’s standoffish attitude lately, Rachael quickly gathers a different explanation.
Not getting a response, Vaeda prods again, “You were saying she looks like, what?”
“Um, she looks, stressed. She has had a lot served on her platter.” Rachael gives up eyeing them all. “I am just surprised that she is holding it together as well as she is.”
That wasn’t a lie on her part. Rachael is in awe of her friend’s strength of character—she isn’t so sure under the same circumstances that she would be able to say the same thing. Her grace under fire is inspiring, but Rachael’s cheery attitude begins to deteriorate from their spying tactics now that the guilt for nearly ratting her friend out to the Elders is pressing hard on her conscience. But she did not fold—nearly, but not quite.
Downing the rest of her beer, Rachael feels the buzzing effect the small amount of alcohol as her boldness grows.
“And, if you really want answers” —her eyes shoot to confront Orroryn’s emerald gaze— “the one you should be talking to is none other than your adoptive, pig-headed son. He has become, in every sense of the word, her shadow. He has the answers. Not me.”
Hearing the bitter tone in her words, the Elders realize they may have poked a tender spot in Rachael’s defences, and that she is right. This entanglement will have to be dealt with by Orroryn himself as Shane never really shared much love for authority figures, especially for those of the Covenant—something both he and Gabrian have in common.
Orroryn lifts his bottle and swills down the remains of his drink before staring intently at his host. “You are probably right,” he admits, holding his soft but intense stare on Rachael. He blinks hard then switches his attention to his peers. “But I doubt I will have much luck with getting answers from him either. His oath to her runs deeper than I could have ever imagined and a breach of her trust, even innocently, would be an unforgiven act of treason in his eyes. But I will see what I can do.”
Vaeda and Ariah both nod in comprehension, agreeing to let Orroryn deal with his son as he sees best.
“Thank you, Rachael, for your patience.” Vaeda smiles warmly at her, understanding Rachael’s loss of friendship all too well.
“You are welcome. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help to you.”
“You did what you could.” She glides to stand in front of Rachael’s tiny form and places a hand on her shoulder. “I am sure things will turn around soon, for everyone.”
Rachael nods in response to Vaeda’s kind words. Stepping away, Vaeda twists her delicate fingers counter clockwise and the air in front of her begins to move—swirling into a mirage of glowing particles which make Vaeda’s long hair dance with the current as it accelerates. Fractals of light collide into each other, illuminating the room with a warm glow in its wake. The diameter of the display spreads wide enough to envelope their forms, and with one last endearing smile, Ariah and Vaeda slip into the vortex of spinning light. It swallows them whole then collapses in on itself, taking with it any evidence of its existence.
The air is still but the abundance of electricity within the room causes the hair on Rachael’s arms to lift. Her heart flutters, partly due to the high energy of Vaeda’s orb and partly due to the abrupt knowledge that she is now alone with Orroryn surrounded by the dimness of the night.
Shyly, she lets her eyes go where they crave. The green sheen of his irises against his tanned skin makes her breath catch in her chest and her pulse races as he steps forward, eliminating all the distance between them. The scent of summer wafts through the empty room and her body warms to it in response. She takes in a breath and holds it as he nears but exhales hard as he extends his reach to hand her the empty bottle.
“Thank you again for your hospitality as usual, Rachael,” he hums sweetly.
She takes the bottle from him, this time careful not to make contact. She has had enough letdowns this evening than she cares to stand. “You are welcome. It was no trouble at all.” Rachael steps away, preparing to mope as she moves toward the kitchen, when she feels the warmth of his hand gently grasps her elbow, stopping her. The heat of the touch flares uncontrollably through her limbs, igniting the consumption of her desire within.
“It is nice to see you adapting so well here.”
She slowly twists to face him once more and looks up, drowning in her desire to be close to him, to embrace him. But she stands statuesque, stuck dreaming.
“I have often thought about moving back, to be closer to Shane,” Orroryn admits, a hint of sadness in his tone, “but there are too many ghosts here for me. My meetings and infrequent visits are just enough to cure the craving inside and my longing to be here—and besides, the city keeps my mind busy.”
“I know what you mean about the city keeping one busy.” Rachael sighs, reveling in the remembrance of Manhattan’s electric buzz. “It’s a struggle some days but for the most part, it seems to be growing on me.” A slight pull at the corners of her lips appears as she continues. “Who knows, maybe someday it will feel like home.”
Orroryn’s eyes widen, his pupils dilating just for a second; her words play a familiar tune in his memory. His heart twists sharply in his chest as he tries to push it away, telling himself it is just ghosts in his head whispering nonsense again, a sign it is time for him to leave. Still looking down upon her tiny face framed in crimson curls, he gives her arm a slight squeeze before letting go.
“Maybe it will, my dear,” he whispers. It is all he can muster in his duress. “Take care of yourself.” Stepping close to the edge of her bedroom door, he curls his fingers against the grain of the Veil. Tugging at it with familiarity, he wraps the web of shadows around his body, and disappears into the night.
Her pulse recedes, its echo still pounding in her ears. Despite his absence, it continues to thrash wildly within her chest just the same.
“Uh, what the hell is wrong with me?” she growls, scolding her emotions as she stomps back into the kitchen, back to the cold toast awaiting her, and away from the man that has turned her world upside down. She sets down the empty bottle beside the toast and clutches at the hollow ache residing just above her heart.
“How dare you willingly betray me and fall for the only man on this planet who will never feel the same—who cannot feel the same even if he wanted to?”
17
BATMAN RETURNS
AFTER THE MESSED-UP day that she has just had, Gabrian sheds her clothes and throws herself into the shower, immersing her entire body under the hot steamy water spouting from her showerhead. Even though the magic is long gone, she can still feel the remnants of the binds wound tightly around her from being in the Covenant of Shadows. All she wants now is to rid any trace of their power over her and take away the empty feeling that seems to bore a hole through her from her painful visit to Thunderhole.
She makes her way back down the hall, running her fingers along the cloth canvases to touch each of h
er mother’s paintings, feeling the cold drain of sadness eat at her insides. Though grateful for Shane’s constant presence, she still feels the aching void of Sarapheane’s unconditional love for her and Jarrison’s gentle embrace. Gabrian stares blindly through her watery eyes as she walks through tender moments of her youth.
Sensing a shift in energy, Shane picks up on the solemn hum of sadness seeping its way down into the kitchen and edges toward the bottom of the staircase. He looks up at her standing so small against the largeness of the world with her arms crossed, determined to be stronger than all of this, and his chest aches, longing to comfort her.
“You okay up there?” he whispers, keeping his distance.
Gabrian lifts her arm and wipes away any trace of moisture blurring her vision and inhales deeply. “Yeah, I am fine,” she lies. “I’ll be down in a minute.” Then turns her attention to the paintings. “I miss you so much.” Lifting her fingers tenderly to her lips, she places the silent kiss upon the canvas and gathers herself together before slowly trudging her way down the wooden steps.
A creak of the bottom stair under her weight causes Shane to look up from his newspaper and deliver her a devilish grin from the kitchen nook. Her face twists in surprise of his unexpected playfulness.
“What are you grinning about?” She crosses the kitchen and pokes him in the shoulder on the way to the large two door refrigerator in search of anything that will help her in dulling the memories of the day. With a quick tug on the door handle, the fridge opens to reveal the location of just such an elixir. Beer—two of them.
“Let’s go see a movie.”
“What?”
“You know, a movie, big screen, popcorn, snack...me, alone in the dark.”
She grabs the beer and pulls herself back, out of the cold, and closes the door as she rolls her eyes at Shane. “I know what a movie is, silly.” She pulls the opener from the drawer beside the sink and opens the beer, handing one to her suitor.
