Michael

by Aaron Patterson

  I found myself saying it. “How long was I… um…”

  “Dead?”

  “Uh. Yeah. Dead.”

  “It was forever.”

  I could practically hear She doing the facepalm thing and making barf noises. I rolled my eyes a little, but that was for She, not Michael, and I hoped he didn’t see me. I wasn’t quite sure just how it might look if She and I came to blows, but we were getting there quickly.

  Lay off him, I thought, trying to silence her.

  “Michael. How long was I dead?” The question echoed absurdly back at me. But that speedy place…that was so real. I was flying. Somewhere, somehow. I was in between that and this; nothing was real, and at the same time, everything was too real.

  I was stuck right in between. A me sandwich.

  I didn’t know what to do or think. My eyes filled with tears and the flood started.

  Michael simply held me for what felt like hours, and I let him. I had far too many questions to even begin to articulate them. I was outraged. I wanted to shout at him, strike his face, curse at him and ask him why he let the Brotherhood kill me, for crying out loud. I wanted to ask him over and over again why, why, why. But all I could do was sob in his arms.

  I felt pathetic and used up, unstable.

  I started to shiver. I was still soaked to the bone, and I realized as my sanity came back around for a little visit that there were some practical concerns needing my immediate attention. Like the crazy idea that, however this had happened and whatever explanation there was for it, I might completely ruin my resurrection by succumbing to hypothermia.

  “You need to get out of those clothes, lady,” Michael said, my shivers racking even his body.

  “Y-you better w-watch it, mis-s-ster. You can’t talk like that to me. It’s-s indecent.”

  For the first time, a smile dawned on his face. “You’re beautiful,” he said, “And it’s good to have you back.”

  His smile was glorious and new, even if it was mingling with the tears streaming down his face. It lit something in me that warmed me to my toes.

  “What I mean is,” he said, correcting his former indiscretion, “you’ve got work to do.”

  “Like w-what?”

  He looked at me funny. “How do I say this? You smell like lake trout. And death.”

  “Oh.”

  “You need a nice hot bath. And dry clothes.”

  I blushed. It felt good, but it too was just slightly off kilter.

  “I’ll leave you to it?”

  I nodded.

  He stood and I feared something again for the first time. I feared being alone. He turned to go, walking for the door and the long hall in the impossibly enormous house.

  “But don’t go too far!” I shouted.

  He gave me a confused look. “I won’t. I need to go find Kim, though.”

  “Okay.”

  “K. Be safe. No more drowning.”

  This time I let him see me roll my eyes. “Hey. You too.” I gave him a little “I’ve got my eye on you” gesture and then he left.

  I was alone.

  CHAPTER III

  MICHAEL WALKED OUT OF her bedroom questioning his sanity. Am I losing it? Airel’s back and I’m off on some Good Samaritan mission five minutes later? He didn’t want to let her out of his sight.

  His feet nevertheless kept going, away, out, taking him farther and farther away from the one person he felt now—and strongly—he couldn’t live without.

  The real kicker was that what he was about to do was right inside his wheelhouse: tracking. Because of the job he used to have with James, every demonic memory, every kill, every tactic, every savage act—all of it—was there for the showing and telling in his mind. He had to admit, it had made his “training” in the Brotherhood easy and swift; almost a joke. These things had become second nature, and quickly; maybe because of the fact that Stanley was the Seer, maybe not.

  But Airel was like ice that had taken up lodging in the stone of his heart. Love was the spark that would cause that potentially life-giving moisture to warm and expand and shatter all of him. She could wreck him with a glance. He knew it because he felt it.

  It was bizarre: being only eighteen, yet having instant access to time immemorial through the daguerreotype of James’s thoughts. It was a demonic and evil perspective of things. He knew that he would have to turn and face what he had done. The demonic pathways in his mind caused him to possess a kind of twisted life experience that made certain things quite clear.

  Airel.

  She had changed everything. He never saw her coming. One day he was just tracking, shadowing like he was shadowing Kim even now, and then he was falling for one of those whom he had been taught were nothing but a plague to be eradicated.

  Even with all that, his instincts were telling him there wasn’t much chance for the two of them. There’s not much chance for anything, really. How can I ever go back? He couldn’t. There were some things that couldn’t be undone.

  Except death? That was still totally crazy, and he wondered what it was that had made it work. Was it the book? The pen? He took more steps, consciously avoiding the next thought building in the back of his conscience. El? Sworn enemy.

  “Crap,” he said, walking out of the enormous house onto the porch. It seemed like only minutes ago, he had been having breakfast with her. And Kreios…. But that was a different world.

  So where did Kreios go?

  More questions, and lots of them.

  He walked on with them for a time, down the steps.

  “Where’s Kim?” He looked around.

  He was on the floor of the great valley again. Only moments ago he had carried the lifeless body of his true love…right across these very steps. True love? Do I know what that is?

  He shook his head, trying to clear up his thinking. “All right. Where is she?” He looked around for signs in the grass, on the path, skillfully processing divots and pebbles and skids and filing them against the database of his demonically shared memories. “Come on, Kim. Where are you?” He kept walking.

  Down the path he went, following thousands of years of inherited instinct and looking for something more solid. A bent blade of grass…a broken twig…even a partial footprint. But there was nothing that said Kim.

  At length he found himself breaking out into the clear area at the top of the cliff. If he was looking for signs of activity, here there were plenty. He could sense it all, and it was like walking into the overpowering stench of a field of dead. He could see with his mind’s eye innumerable historical instances of this very type of thing, and it swept over him and drove him to his knees. He couldn’t help gagging; it was so real.

  All the decisions he’d made—whether with good intentions or bad—were tallied up before his eyes and it was like that old Hebrew legend: Mene. Mene. Tekel. Upharsin. And he could hear what it meant; that he had been weighed in the scales and found wanting. And perhaps a lesser person— what am I, a man or a boy?—would have crumbled into tears, but Michael Alexander didn’t. He simply stood to his feet, numb. Overwhelmed. He looked out on the lake below, the mountains in the distance. He stood now just past the boulders near the edge of the cliff.

  “Michael?” The voice was right behind him.

  He spun, instinct driving him instantly into his fighting stance, fists up in the guard.

  “What are you doing here?” It was Kim.

  He let out a breath and relaxed, forcing his arms down to his sides. “Looking for you.”

  Kim’s face showed flashes of unbridled rage. “Murderer,” she breathed, her eyes flashing.

  Michael’s eyes widened in comprehension. “No…no, that’s not true—”

  “How can you say that?” her eyes filled with tears, her fists clenched at her side.

  “Kim, I mean—”

  “Shut up! Just shut your mouth!” She wiped at her eyes. “You killed my best friend!”

  “Kim—”

  “Traitor! Bastard! Mu
rderer!”

  Michael grimaced. I guess this is where it starts.

  She stalked closer to him and looked up at his face. “I want to kill you!” She was pointing her finger at his chest. “I should push you off this cliff. You don’t deserve to live. You are a…” She stuttered—face flushed.

  “Kim, listen to me. Airel is alive.”

  Her jaw dropped. Then she stepped back from him, shock spreading across her face. “Liar!” she hissed. “I don’t believe you!”

  “Kim, trust me. I am all those things you said I am. I have to live the rest of my life knowing what I did to her. But I’m telling you the truth—she’s alive.”

  Kim looked like she was dizzy, and her eyes darted around as if a torrent of different emotions were pouring through her.

  “Kim. Can I take you to her? Let me take you to her.”

  She eyed him warily. “Why should I trust you?”

  He shrugged, harrumphing. “I’ve got no reason for you to trust me, Kim. None at all. Like I said, you were right. I am a traitor and a murderer. And I am a…a bastard. You don’t know how right you are about that. Are you going to follow me back to the house or not?”

  “How ‘bout not,” she said, crossing her arms and cupping her elbows with her hands.

  I can see how this is going. “Tell you what. Why don’t you head back, now that we’ve found each other, and see for yourself. I’ll wait here for a bit and let you two have some time. You probably need it. I’ll probably see you in the kitchen by the time I get back. I bet she’ll need something to eat anyway.”

  She sniffed at him. “Whatever.”

  “That’s our Kim.” She’s probably going to make me regret saying that.

  Kim turned and sprinted into the woods like a cat.

  “It’ll be dark soon,” he called after her. “Better hurry.” He had decided to take his time getting back, coming dark or no. Maybe try to see if El would answer a question or two…

  Before Michael could articulate a single question in his mind, watching Kim scurry off, he felt something new within him, a kind of draw to light and warmth. It was magnetic, and as he opened his heart and mind to it, he was surprised at how the light seared his mind, how the warmth burned him, it felt good to be truly honest about all that he was.

  But what he was was ugly.

  Then he could see what was happening. It was El. He’s here, somehow, right now, he thought panicking, and, completely opposite to everything he had ever known or been taught, without really choosing to, he fell to his knees right there in the dirt.

  It felt then to Michael that everything made sense: that he really had more in common with dirt than he had ever dreamt. He felt low, and his decisions paraded before him, accusing him in a strangely familiar voice: “Manipulator. You manipulated Airel.”

  Is that me? he wondered.

  “You got close and lied to her, charmed her, fully intending to kill…and then you stood by and did nothing until it was too late…and then, dear boy, what did you do? Something very, very selfish…and very, very risky indeed, did you not? Yes, you did. And you know why you wrote in the Book, don’t you? Yes, you do…. You didn’t do it for Airel; don’t kid yourself. You did it for YOU.”

  Michael collapsed, his face in the dirt, weeping, trying with all his heart to argue, “No! I did it for her; I love her! I love her with all my heart! More than my own life!”

  “Nevertheless, you stood by and watched her die…”

  Truth was hard to come by. He didn’t really know up from down. “But it wasn’t too late! I made it right!”

  “Did you?”

  Michael was silent.

  “…or have you made it worse? Some things cannot be undone.”

  He felt like he was going crazy, talking to voices inside his own head, begging El like a dog. That one fact, that he felt like begging his sworn enemy for relief, filled him with shame and regret. All he could do was hope that what he had done would work out in the end…that she could forgive him when she saw who he really was.

  CHAPTER IV

  STEAM.

  Ah, that feels really, really good. I stood under the shower of near-scalding water, washing the cold and grime from my body, my eyes closed.

  All kinds of things were running through my head. Given a little distance from Michael, I felt like I could think more clearly. As the smell of lake trout and death rinsed away and fell from my body, the fog in my mind also dispelled, leaving a pristine clean. One thing was pretty clear already.

  Michael and I had unfinished business. A lot to talk through, I mean. What had happened between us was life and death. It wasn’t just some stupid interpersonal friend drama resulting from someone flapping their gums about a rumor overheard in the girls’ locker room. I guessed the best way to say it was that I needed answers. Like yesterday.

  She expressed it perfectly. “Caution.”

  And She was right, I had to admit. This girl wouldn’t be making any rash decisions in the future. Especially about Michael. I also had to admit things had gone too far too fast. Well, probably. It was pretty obvious, anyway, that I didn’t really know him or what he was capable of, in just about every direction. For the first time I could see that I had acted like a love-struck teenager, letting all my rationale go out the window when it came to Michael. Anyway, I needed more time, so I resolved to be unresolved about things until I had more information.

  What if that confuses him? “So what?” I asked the shower tile, scrubbing shampoo into my scalp for the third time.

  It was weird. I was thinking of new slogans for the shampoo I was using. It’s the kind that gets out the worst smells! Even death! I was still a little punchy. I sighed heavily and rinsed.

  It had been about an hour. He might be back by now, I thought, and that made me more nervous about him than when he picked me up on our first date. Why? Because now I knew him better. There was danger and desire roundabout him, and that did weird and conflicting things inside me. It pushed and pulled at the same time.

  I turned the water off, turned to grab for my towel and then realized the bathroom door was cracked open. I had left it closed.

  “Ohmygawd!”

  I gasped and covered myself with the towel, looking toward the sound of the voice. Could it be? I saw an unkempt mop of red hair. “Kim!”

  “Airel…”

  I could tell she was going to cry. I wanted to run to her but that would have been a little awkward. “What are you doing here? Are you all right?”

  “Am I all right? How about you? Are you really alive?” she said.

  I found myself blushing. “Stop looking at me.”

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t believe it.” Kim rushed forward and hugged me hard.

  “Kim!” I held her for a long moment, starting to cry again. My head hurt from all the crying. I had to get ahold of myself.

  “Knock knock!” It was Michael, his voice coming from out in the bedroom.

  “Oh my gosh! Stay out there!” I shouted, a hint of irritation in my voice. “Kim!” I said, turning back to her.

  She got the message. Best friends are good at reading in between the lines. She winked at me and ran out, saying, “We are gonna talk later.”

  I heard her verbally abusing him out there and I smiled. In a minute she shouted back at me through the door, announcing that they would meet me down in the kitchen whenever I was ready. I said, “Okay,” and breathed a sigh of relief.

  After Michael and Kim left me in peace, I felt the pulling again. Part of me was still broken and I wasn’t sure what would fix it. Or if Michael would even be involved in that healing.

  Anyway, why should I be the one to feel bad? “Exactly,” She said. I wasn’t the one who had declared war. They had.

  I toweled off and began to wring and brush out my hair. Horrible dark jokes clattered in the back of my mind. How could I be so beautiful? I was dead an hour ago. I shrugged it off and kept brushing.

  Remembering who I was made me t
hink of Kreios. Where was he? When I reached out in my mind for him, all I got back was silence. Blackness. Was he even alive? Why was I alone? Why had he been taken from me when I needed him most?

  And who was Michael? Yeah, really. It was there nagging me in the back of my mind, but if I opened that door, what if I didn’t like what I found there? Did I have to go there? He had lied to me about his past and who his dad was. What else had he lied about? Had he really planned to kill me?

  How can a girl know and be sure about love when she’s not sure who, precisely, she loves? Everything I thought I knew about him—that he was gentle, strong, beautiful and flawed, funny and serious, perfect and broken—how much of it was true? And considering what he had lived with… what he had to do to be the son of Stanley Alexander…I couldn’t begin to make sense of it.

  In the end all of it made me want to be in his corner. There was something unexplainable about my attraction to him. Sure, it was physical. That was the attention-getter for everyone, right? But there was also a deep mystery to him; something both compelling and unknowable. That was the hook in my jaws, and it had been there since that fateful day I had spilled my coffee.

  I tried to shrug off the deep thoughts and dressed in cargo pants, hiking boots and a dark blue tank top. I would be ready to hike out to the cliff later. Hopefully. I had to find Kreios.

  I also figured my life, my school, my friends outside of Kim and Michael were all gone now. Everything was different now.

  I had been shoved violently out of the nest, just like that baby eagle I had dreamt about. I sighed. So much about life was just impossible and huge. Would I learn to fly before I hit bottom?

  Would I ever see my parents again? Would it be safe? For them? Was it better if they thought I was dead?

  My head ached.

  My chest ached too, but I refused to look at the scar in the mirror or touch it. I knew it was there and it made sure I did. It throbbed endlessly, pulsing with my cleaved and restarted heart.