After my shift, I headed towards the staff parking lot. I scrounged in my bag to find my keys, stopped and finally felt the round metal keyring attached to the set. I was a few steps away from my car, when I noticed someone sitting on a bench watching me. It was the old man again. He didn’t move, but continued to look my way. I unlocked my door, climbed inside and looked back at the bench. I shook my head. The old man had vanished again. Then I suddenly remembered the hawk and rushed home.
~*~
I hurried out onto the balcony and stared at the tree, but it wasn’t there. Every night after that I rushed out, as soon as I got home, to look for it. I couldn’t help the growing obsession to see the magnificent bird of prey again, but the tree remained empty. As the days passed in its absence, I grew sadder. I even went out one afternoon, walked over to the tree and touched it. I longed to feel some kind of connection. I needed to. Why did I feel such a strong link to this bird, I wondered. As an only child, my parents had assuaged my loneliness with various pets. They had refused to give me the one pet I really wanted though, a dog. The substitute, a fluffy, bouncy kitten arrived on my sixth birthday and had only died when I was midway in my undergrad. Now I had no pets and weren’t allowed any according to the complex rules anyway.
I gave up on seeing it again after a week had passed, but the sadness remained in my heart. I closed my front door one evening after work and walked towards the kitchen counter. I forced myself to keep my eyes straight ahead, but in the end couldn’t help glimpsing quickly towards the balcony. I sighed. No hawk. I switched the kettle on and reached up to open the cupboard, when I heard a strange flapping noise. It sounded close by. I dashed towards the glass door and screamed.
It was back! And it was right there, perched on the railing of my balcony! I had never seen a bird of prey up so close. It was over 20 inches tall! I stared at it and didn’t move. Its talons were long and yellow and ended in sharp black claws. Red splatters covered the bird’s talons and beak. The faint light from the balcony wall reflected in its eyes. I found myself gazing into their depths and couldn’t look away.
Then it spread out its wings and they nearly touched either side of my balcony. I shrieked and staggered backwards. This beautiful creature shouldn’t be here, I suddenly thought. And it might be hurt. I ran back to the kitchen counter and picked up my mobile. I had to call animal control. I rushed back towards the balcony with the phone to my ear. Then its eyes drew me in again and something told me not to report the bird, not in words, but a sense of reassurance and calm came over me.
I put the phone in my pocket, moved to the armchair facing the balcony and sat down. I watched the bird as I held the Amethyst I wore in a chain around my neck. It stayed perched on the railing for a few minutes and then flapped its wings and took off with perfect elegance. I couldn’t believe it had come back and had been on my balcony! I was breathing fast, I realized, as my eyes remained locked on the position it had been in a few seconds ago. Though it had left, I knew I would see it again.
I was bursting with excitement and wished I had someone to tell. I knew the girls at the book club would be suitably impressed. I hadn’t been to a meeting in three months, but the next day was the last Friday of the month and they would be getting together.
The following evening I accepted the traditional glass of wine at the door and went and sat in the furthest corner of the room next to the fireplace. The warmth of the embers warmed my shins as the wine warmed me from the inside. It was a small book club with a turnout of usually between five and ten girls. I hoped someone would ask me what I’d been up to since I last saw them. They were usually keen to hear about my pursuits in alternative healing.
“Layla, we haven’t seen you in a while,” the organizer asked and smiled wanly at me.
She didn’t like having the spotlight off her.
“Yes, I thought it’d be nice to catch up with you girls,” I replied.
One of the friendlier girls came and sat beside me.
“What have you been up to Miss Librarian?” she joked.
I leant forward, took a deep breath and told her all about my majestic visitor.
“You saw a what?” one of the other girls asked and sat down on the adjacent sofa.
My heart began to beat faster as two more girls gathered around to hear my story. I held my glass of wine firmly in my hand and gulped a quarter of it down. Naturally the organizer castigated me for not calling animal control, but the others were envious. When I returned home that night the balcony was empty. And though it had felt good to share my news, I now felt empty as I walked out and gazed at the towering trees. Then I noticed a long white and brown feather on the tiled balcony floor. I picked it up and as soon as I held it in my hand, a voice filled my head.
“I shall return soon.”
I swung around but there was no one there. I leaned over the edge of the railing to see if someone was on the balcony below, but it was empty too. I stared down at the feather. The next day I held it in my hand again, but nothing happened, neither did the hawk appear that night or the following night.
Chapter Two
I had to take small steps as the path leading down the hill became steeper. I held on to a protruding rock with my left hand and lowered my right leg to the ground. A trail of smoke was blowing away from the cottage. Then the smoke and cottage faded and were gone. I sat up in bed. I wished I could make sense of the strange dreams I kept having and the absence of the hawk. I felt like it had abandoned me.
I had given up on my meditation, as I usually did and instead tried to cheer myself up with food, chili con carne take-out from my favorite restaurant. I hoped that would make me feel better. I climbed up the steps to my apartment, put the restaurant packet down and opened the door. Before I switched the light on, I noticed something odd. I reached down for the packet. It looked like there were glistening slivers or shards on the floor. I tilted my head to the side as my stomach began to tense. I lifted my arm and flipped the light switch.
It was glass and it covered the living room floor. I took a step backward. The balcony door had a huge hole in the center with broken shards of glass forming sharp points. I reached for my phone and then let go of it in my bag. Droplets of blood were splattered on the ground together with the glass. I inched into the living room to see if I could see anything else.
“Oh my God!” I cried out and dropped the take-away packet.
Laying on the ground, covered in blood, was the majestic bird of prey. I leapt closer to the hawk and knelt down. It was moving, but its eyes were closed. I fetched a towel, gently wrapped the bird in it and put it on the coffee table. I located the closest vet on my mobile and was about to dial the number, when a voice spoke in my head.
“No,” it said, “Only you.”
I cast my gaze around the room, but there was no one there except me and the bird. I looked down at it. Its eyes were still closed.
“I trust only your hands,” the voice continued.
I could not hear the words with my ears. They were only inside my head. Where had the voice come from? Was I going mad? Then a sense of calm and certainty flooded my mind. I stood up slowly and knew what to do. I unwrapped the towel and looked closer at the bird’s body. There were many cuts on its breast and sides and it looked like feathers were missing too. There was a deep gouge across its beak. I lit some incense, fetched my bag of crystals and placed the stones around the bird. Then I brought my hands slowly closer to its body. I held them just above the hawk, over the deep cuts and moved them slowly to different parts of its body. At first it remained still as my hands hovered over it. I thought perhaps it had died. Then I saw a wing twitch as my hands hovered over a patch where feathers were missing. It seemed to be responding to the energy. I prayed it would not die. After three healing sessions, I was drained. I sat back and looked at the bird. I hoped it would make it through the night and that I had done the right thing, not taking it to the vet.
~*~
I fell as
leep on the single armchair and was awoken by the sunlight before my alarm the next morning. My eyelids were heavy and uncooperative. They opened slowly and then suddenly snapped open when I remembered the bird.
I looked over at the table but it was empty. I sat up straight and only then noticed something on the armchair in the far corner of the room. I jumped up, screamed and ran behind the kitchen counter.
“Wh-who are you?” I whispered from behind the counter.
There was no reply. I picked up my mobile from inside my bag and dialed 911. He didn’t move.
“I-I have an intru-” I stammered.
Then his eyes slowly began to open.
“Mam-mam, are you still there?” the 911 operator responded.
Then he closed his eyes again. His otherwise naked body lay draped with a bloodied towel over his hips.
“I won’t hurt you, Layla.”
His mouth had not moved as he spoke. I hung up the call and slowly put the phone down on the kitchen counter. He still didn’t move. I took a step into the living room, still keeping my distance from this strange, naked man on my armchair. Where was the hawk, I wondered. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t feel threaten by this man in my apartment.
I ventured even closer. Then I noticed his olive skin was damaged in places. He had cuts across his chest and arms. My feet edged nearer. Then I saw his face more clearly. He had wavy brown hair, a strong jaw line and sharp nose. His nose had a deep cut on it too. What was he doing here? What had happened to him? I reached my hand towards him and then quickly withdrew it, as his chest rose suddenly. His eyes were still closed. His legs were stretched out and reached to the rug. He must have been over six foot tall. My eyes drew back to his bare chest and well-defined abdominal muscles.
I collapsed down onto the armchair I had slept on and stared at the injured man. It was the same voice I had heard when I was trying to help the hawk. I looked at the hole in the balcony door. It looked the same. The bird would not have been able to maneuver through without getting seriously injured.
He moved his hand up onto his stomach. His fist was closed, like he was clasping something in his hand. I leaned closer. It was one of my crystals, the Agate, a very powerful stone. I knew that ancient civilizations used Agates in amulets for protection and I had always felt a close connection with the stone. It was no wonder the stranger had chosen the strength-bringing and protection crystal to grasp.
Then I remembered another crystal I felt a close link to and felt compelled to see it again. I walked to my bedroom and took down the velvet pouch from the bookshelf. I gently emptied the pouch on my bed and found the stone I was looking for. I held it in my hand and closed my eyes. I slowed my breathing and tried as best as I could to clear my mind. But nothing happened. I took a slow deep breath in and exhaled a slow, controlled breath. The crystal began to warm up in my hand. If the Native American Indians and Mayans could use it in sacred communication, why wasn’t it working for me, I wondered. Being impatient wouldn’t help. I let my doubts flow out of my mind as they came in and my body began to feel lighter.
“Thank you,” a voice suddenly communicated in my head.
It worked! The Azurite stone worked. It did help to boost psychic abilities. Was the communication from him though, I wondered. I put the stone in my pocket and returned to the living room. The man hadn’t moved and his eyes were still closed. Maybe I’d imagined the voice again, I thought.
“No, Layla,” the voice said, “don’t doubt yourself and your abilities.”
~*~
I could not keep my mind from drifting back to his words. His words in my head!
“What’s up with you?” one of my colleagues asked.
She handed me a pile of books and turned back to serve a customer.
I grinned and looked away quickly. “Nothing.”
I had insisted on cleaning his wounds the day before. My hand pressed gently on his skin with a cotton wool swab. I dabbed it on a deep cut which ran over his pectoral muscle. The muscle twitched and I drew quickly back. He smiled at me and nodded his head. He had still not said anything to me, at least not in a voice I could hear with my ears.
I had found a pair of sweat pants for him to wear, left behind by an old boyfriend. They were a bit short, but more appropriate than a bath towel at least! Once his wounds were cleaned, I had him lie down on the three-seater sofa. I placed my hands an inch above his skin and slowly worked over his wounds and the rest of his body. I could feel his energies change after a few minutes.
“You are a good healer, Layla,” he said, in my head.
“How do you know my name?” I asked verbally.
I didn’t think I was capable of communicating the way he did.
“It’s not important,” he replied.
His answers were always cryptic and the less he said, the more I babbled about myself.
“I’ve always preferred books to people,” I said, “They make far better company.”
My colleague interrupted my reverie, once again.
“What’s his name, Layla?” she asked in an affected mocking tone and smiled.
I swiveled my head quickly in her direction and frowned.
“Oh come on,” she continued, “It must be a man!”
I looked down at the keyboard. “No, it’s nothing.”
My cheeks began to grow warmer as I thought of his bare, muscular chest. I still didn’t understand how he didn’t feel the cold, as the heating wasn’t great in my old apartment.
“Hmm, really?” she continued and giggled.
I stared intently at the computer screen and was glad when a customer handed me a book a second later.
As usual, I sped back home. I couldn’t spend another second away from him. At least he had begun to eat small portions of fruit. I was glad he was beginning to heal. I watched him lean forward and pick a handful of purple grapes from the bunch, but he grimaced when he moved.
“What happened to you?” I asked again.
He had refused to tell me so far.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “I’m just glad I found you.”
Chapter Three
He began to stand up for short periods, to my relief. Then one night, I heard groaning coming from the lounge. I rushed over to him. He was twisting in his sleep and his face looked flushed. I put my hand to his forehead and it was very hot. He did not wake up and occasionally a deep frown would cross his forehead as though he were in pain.
I gently pulled the sheet lower. It was what I feared. One of the deep cuts on his side was inflamed, the skin was very red around it and the cut had white coloring in the middle. I rushed to the bathroom and fetched the bottle of antiseptic. I dabbed it on with some cotton wool and reached slowly towards his side. I dapped first on the top end of the wound, which ran diagonally, on the outside. His body flinched, but he still didn’t wake. I dabbed the antiseptic down the wound gently. He groaned. I could see the beads of sweat dripping down his temples and his chest glistened.
I would have to create a poultice to help draw the infection out. I chopped up Eucalyptus leaf and garlic, added a little hot water until it had the consistency of a paste. I kneeled down beside him, took some of the paste between my fingers and pressed it onto his skin. He whipped around and scratched my arm.
I fell backwards onto the floor, held my arm and stared at him, but he was still again. I looked down at my arm. The scratch marks were pronounced red lines, but he had not drawn blood. He hadn’t moved so I got back on my knees and came slowly closer. The wound was on the other side of his body now and I would have to try and move him to get to it. I pulled his arm and pushed with my hip to pull him onto his back. He groaned, but did not try and scratch me again.
I bent over him and applied the poultice carefully, looking up at his face every few seconds. He did not open his eyes. I managed to apply the herb mixture to his whole wound and quickly pasted a large bandage over it, taping it around the sides. His hand moved and I jumped backward,
but he reached up and rubbed his nose.
I sat down on the sofa to keep an eye on him and eventually fell asleep.
“Water,” a voice woke me.
Daylight cast steaks of light across his bare chest. I looked into his eyes and nodded.
~*~
I heard voices coming from the cottage. It had a small window and door which were open. A strange herb smell drifted up the path. I looked down and noticed an amulet around my neck. The pendant stone was familiar to me. I grabbed hold of it and stared. It was an Azurite! I was wearing a dark heavy dress which reached down to my ankles. I had to lift it to move easily down the rocky section of the path. The voices grew louder and I recognized them as female. I thought I could hear three separate voices.
“There you are,” one of the voices said.
The voice was accompanied by the figure of a woman who had stepped outside the cottage and waved over to me. She also had a long, simple dress on and held a candle lamp in her hand.
All of a sudden words came out of my mouth.
“The vision was right!”
Then a sound permeated and disturbed my dream state. My body jerked as I woke up. I slapped my hands down on the bed covers on either side of me. Why did I keep having that strange dream, I wondered. I suddenly realized the sound I’d heard was the sound of the balcony door opening. I swung my feet down to the floor and stood up.
As the balcony came into view, I saw him standing there holding onto the rail. The picture of the hawk flashed into my mind, its majestic brown and white wings reaching the edges of the balcony.
“Yes,” the voice in my head confirmed.
My jaw slackened and hung open for a second. Then another picture flashed into my mind. I saw an open field with hazy mountains in the background. The sky was clear except for a few wispy clouds streaking the blue. I looked down and saw small, dirty feet, with a metal ring around the left big toe. The arm extended outward and I felt the muscles were strong. The forearm was covered in a scratched leather covering. I looked up as I heard a flapping sound and felt a rush of air by neck. Then the arm stiffened and my eyes met the beautiful creature’s eyes, perched on the end of my arm.
Captured By The Beast I Page 18
