“Hey, Birthday Boy,” Rachel greeted me. “Did you know you and William Shakespeare have the same birthday? Grandpa told me that earlier.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, not caring.
“I’ll have to ask you for that band’s number. We can have them for another music night down at the coffeehouse. They’re wonderful.”
“I think so, too. Should be no problem getting them to play for your café,” I agreed.
“All in all, it looks like your party is a success,” Rachel said with a smile.
I waited for the self-satisfaction to rise within me, but it didn’t come like it usually did at parties. Huh. Weird.
“Do you feel any different?” Rachel asked, handing me some gingerbread chocolate chip cookies.
I took a cookie and bit into it, wondering if she was reading my thoughts. “What do you mean?”
“Do you feel any different now that you’re seventeen?” she asked.
“Oh.” I didn’t think it was because I was seventeen that I felt different. I thought about my previous parties, how I was the king, no matter who really was having a birthday. I’d talk Tetris and sports and movies and everything else for hours, and people would laugh and cheer for me and with me. It was something that meant a lot.
I suppose I had something that meant a lot more to me. And I liked it. That was what was different, I realized. I’d taken a small “vacation” from my supernatural self before, when I hated it. But since then, and since coming back, I’d come to see that, while it was work, it was also worth it. I enjoyed it, and even when I didn’t, I looked forward to experiencing it again. My power had always been there, a part of myself, but had become a larger part of me while also part of something much larger. Adonaias had always been there, too, but he had changed from a figure to be feared wrongfully into one to be feared rightfully. And Starry Knight . . . I had been waiting for her, even without knowing I’d been waiting for her; she was a mystery I’d been waiting my whole life for the chance to solve.
There had been a feeling hanging over me in the past few weeks, a feeling that change was coming. It didn’t click until that moment that change had already arrived. I was changing, things were changing, and I was finally okay—in fact, more than okay—with that.
It was flooring, the idea I was looking forward to something more in my life than Tetris and being cheered on by my friends. Those things still mattered, of course, but there was more, and I was enthralled there was more.
I caught sight of the clock, and I mentally counted down the hours until I would get to leave and go meet with Aleia, with my supernatural destiny.
“Hamilton?”
“Huh?” I jumped. “Sorry, what did you ask, Rachel?”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah, I’m great.” I smiled brightly, turning on the full charm. I might have had some kind of epiphany, but I still had a duty to my party peers. “I was just wondering when the cake was coming, that’s all.”
“They’re over there. I just got them out.”
“‘Them?’ As in, plural?” I asked. I looked over to see there were a large, double-layer cake, stacked up and ready to go with my name and candles all over it. And then there was a long sheet cake beside it, with no frills or fun stuff on top. “What’s this?”
“Raiya told me to bring you a chocolate cake, with the mocha icing.” Rachel looked at me carefully, like she was trying not to come off as offensive.
“You didn’t have to listen to her,” I scoffed. “I was fine with the cherry.”
“Strawberry.”
“Whatever. The one Gwen wanted.” I sighed. “This has to be some kind of joke to her.”
“I don’t think so.” Rachel turned and shrugged. “But joke or not, there’s nothing wrong with it. I made it, not like the cookies.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Who made the cookies?”
“Raiya. Gingerbread’s her specialty, remember?” Rachel looked at me quizzically. “I’ve told you that before.” Seeing the no doubt horrified, blank look on my face, she added, “Oh well. You know, you might want to be nicer to her. She’s really a good friend once you get to know her.”
I don’t want to get to know her. Even if her cookies had apparently managed to make me dream of gingerbread and autumn moonlight on a regular basis. “I don’t think so, Rachel. We argue too much to be friends.”
“Do people have to agree on everything to be friends?” Rachel asked.
“Well, no. But it’s . . . I just, you know, there’s just—”
“Just stuff it.” The sharp tone surprised me. That was what probably managed to make me stop talking. “The cake will be ready soon, Hamilton,” Rachel continued, her smile returning, though it was slightly forced. “I’ll bring it out in about ten minutes; I just have to light the candles.”
“Okay,” I said, slinking out of the kitchen as smoothly as I’d entered. “See you then.”
For some reason, the rest of my party just seemed like a bit of a haze to me. Gwen surprised me with football tickets, which I would probably never really use (not a Cleveland fan), and she gave me a kiss as she handed them to me. Some others bought me gifts, too—a planner (probably because of all the things I’d “forgotten” in the last six months), a new movie I had no interest in, a new video game I would probably not actually play for several months after the party, but I would research it enough to make it sound like I did, and some other stuff. I also got some gift cards and money and other stuff I liked.
Cheryl and Mark both came in late with Adam and managed to get some cake before everyone else started leaving. While she was pretending to eat her slice, Cheryl showed me the card Mayor Mills had given to her for me; I could tell she was ecstatic about getting to say, “Stefano’s giving you a raise!” I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d missed work earlier. But at least it seemed she didn’t know about it.
Fortunately, it wasn’t long before it was time for everyone to go.
“Bye, guys!” At the end of the night, I waved to everyone as they left. I watched as Mikey took the bags Gwen was holding. He winked at me.
“Thanks so much. See you Monday!” Mikey called back. He was going to take Gwen home, and then come and meet me at the marina. I felt unsure of telling him about the expedition at first, but it was useful to get his help in getting Gwen home safely.
Once the door was shut, I slumped over in relief. I was free. “Elysian!” I called. “It’s time. Let’s get going.”
☼11☼
Sailing
It was amazing to me how much I’d grown in truly appreciating the night. Up on Elysian’s back, I could see past the whole distance of Apollo City, all the twinkling yellow lights of office buildings and the scattered skyscrapers, the red and white traffic lanes, the shadowed fields of playgrounds and small forests, and the dark but distinct edge of Lake Eerie and its waters. The city was dressed in a low cloud cover, and rising mist from the marina area.
Even though I’d become more of a night person since middle school (largely thanks to online chatting and texting and gaming), I wasn’t actually outside a lot. So clinging to Elysian’s back while the night winds breathed through my wings was a surprising, deep source of the rarest, truest form of magic.
For me, I knew it also held the unique sense of home that could only be groomed or unexpectedly gifted.
“It’s almost eleven,” I called up, barely catching sight of the clock tower in the distance through the rolling fog.
“We’ll get there, don’t worry.” I could see the smile on his face as he said it.
Elysian descended and slowed when we reached Dock 42, and I jumped down. The instant my feet touched the wooden landing, I knew we were not alone.
Glancing around, I did not see anyone right away. I could see up the hill to Lakeview Observatory, down to the woods, and up to the other hill where my housing development was located. I could see the shipping districts and the smaller container boats. Even in
the well-lit areas, the fog was creating a barrier around us, so it was hard to make out details.
“I’m glad to see you’ve made it,” Aleia called out to me.
I smiled to see her form walk out of the cloudy shadows. “I told you I wouldn’t miss this.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Aleia smiled. She was back in her warrior gear, with her daggers tucked away on one side. She wore a small pouch on the other side (I respected her too much to make a fanny pack joke), out of which she drew her orb.
“I’m going to place a stasis on our time here,” she explained as the orb glowed a dark reddish color, lighting up with her power. “This means when we get back, you will be able to come and resume the timeline of your life, beginning at midnight tonight.”
“Okay, great.” I was glad; I wouldn’t have to skip out on sleep to get some experience in. I even had an extra hour to get home before I usually went to bed. Perfect.
“He’s here.”
I glanced around, looking for another person to come up behind us, maybe walking out of one of the warehouses.
It was only when I heard the booming splash behind me and felt the remaining moonlight flee that I turned around.
My mouth dropped open of its own accord. A ship’s anchor was sinking into the bay area. It was similar to the traditional ones from the history books, tethered to the biggest vessel I had ever seen. I whistled in soft shock. “That’s one big boat!”
It was huge, in the form of a nineteenth century clipper ship, though there were some distinct differences. Instead of sails, there were giant wings. Up on the main mast was a lookout’s post, encircled by halo lights. The body of the ship itself was dressed in cosmic shades, blending in with the sky even as it stood out. Lightning crashed against the bottom of the boat harmlessly, creating a bobbling effect.
“Yes, that’s the Meallán, and it’s captain, St. Brendan the Navigator.” Aleia grinned, no doubt pleased at my reaction. “He’s come to give us a lift.”
“Where are we going?” I was having trouble concentrating as I saw the grand sight before me.
“To see the Star of Time, my sister, at her home between the roof of the world and the edge of the Celestial Kingdom.”
“Ahoy there!” I glanced up to see a man, complete with coal black hair and piercing bright blue eyes, standing on the top deck of the Meallán as he heralded us.
“Ready to go, are you? The tide’s coming in rough, I’m sure, so we best be setting off soon.” The man’s voice, complete with an Irish brogue, sang out to us invitingly.
Elysian, taking the initiative, hoisted Aleia and me up onto his back and took off, threading his way through the mist and lightning, and finally landing safely on the deck of the Meallán.
I looked around, suddenly feeling very conscious of how stupid I no doubt looked. My eyes were wide as I looked around, watching the ship’s crew make their way along the deck, climbing the masts and adjusting the wings of the sails.
Everything was pristine and pure, glowing yet not glowing, as though it were completely one and the same, and it was completely normal that there were no shadows or darkness on this floating miracle.
“Whoa,” I finally managed. I turned to face the captain, who was still looking down at the marina docks.
I came up behind him just as he called out once more. “My lady! Joining us, are you?”
I ran to the side, only to see Starry Knight’s unmistakable form by the shoreline.
She waved back. “Not tonight, St. Brendan.”
“You’ve a way of teasing me, lady.”
Starry Knight laughed and blew him a kiss, which shocked me. “Never,” she promised.
I decided I should not like St. Brendan too much.
“It’s good seeing you.” St. Brendan waved back. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”
Starry Knight said nothing, but waved back. In the last moment, her gaze turned to me. I felt the sails pulse, as the power of the celestial tide took over, and the power of her gaze slowly receded, along with my reality.
“So, you’re the one they call Wingdinger? Strange name, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
I turned and reached out a hand. Pending judgment, no need to be rude, no need to be friendly, I thought. “And you are St. Brendan.”
“Nice to be making your acquaintance,” he said as he smiled back.
“How do you know her?” I asked, nodding down to the far-off shore of the world.
“Lady Justice? Oh, we’ve been friends since we met,” he said. “Shame she’s fallen to Earth. It’s not often I get to go past.” He looked past me at Aleia. “Fortunately, I’ve a good way of keeping tabs on everyone, don’t I, Aletheia?”
Aleia laughed. “You’re such a dashing rogue, St. Brendan.”
“Alas, only the sea is meant for me,” he said with a wink. He turned back to me. “And the Prince, being kind, has given her to me to tend. So, Wingdinger. Let’s get you up to Lady Time, then, shall we?”
“How’s the sailing look?” Aleia asked.
“We might have some bumps along the way, but what’s a bit of fun without a bit of a risk?”
Elysian frowned as Aleia and St. Brendan chatted like long-lost friends. Which, I reminded myself, they probably were.
Meanwhile, Elysian and I managed to look like the awkward wallflowers I usually made fun of at parties.
Elysian spoke first. “He seems nice.”
“I don’t like him.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” Elysian rolled his eyes. “I’m, uh, going to take a look around. Just try and stay out of trouble.”
St. Brendan and Aleia continued talking as I watched the endless sea of starlight and space dance by.
The night never seemed so bright, I thought, as we flew by suns and stars, some shining hot, some burning cold. All were different, unique, and seemingly with their own temperaments. I looked past the jib to see we were heading toward a pure white star in the distance.
The closer we got to it, the slower we seemed to go, and the more the stars didn’t seem like stars, but people and planets for angelic purposes. Here, home was not just a feeling, it was alive.
There were blackened stars, silent and dead, too. The remnants of fallen stars, I realized. Suddenly I could see them everywhere, like scars on a body’s skin.
I wondered where mine had been as a lingering sense of despair clutched at my heart. If I was a fallen star, as Elysian had said, and had more or less been proven to me in several ways before, what could have made me leave such a place?
The whispers of music began to creep out from the horizon, and a pervasive sunlight, though it was brighter, became not only perfectly bearable, but preferred. I could see other stars change from the burning gas balls of my science class to home to humanlike creatures, where their forms were all different shades of beauty rather than distinctive colors.
I watched as the ship soared through a playful pond of comets, running through them like a pile of glitter. I saw the Milky Way as it transformed from a clouded rainbow across the night skies into a river of life, not running from the heart of the galaxy, but light clouded with darkness falling in on itself.
It was a slow death of something . . . something that should have been eternal.
“This is what death looks like?” I asked, more to myself than anyone.
“If you want to save something that can choose to be saved or choose not to be saved, you give it time.” St. Brendan came up beside me.
“What? What do you mean?” I asked.
“Stars are not unlike the angels, you know. Stars live between Time and Eternity. But it is only within Time that the Angel of Death resides.” He smiled wistfully. “But it is because of Time that change is possible.”
I didn’t have anything profound to say; I knew most people feared death. Before the change in my own life happened, that was part of the reason I thought life didn’t have to matter; but I was beginning to see that was precisely why life di
d matter. And I could understand what St. Brendan was saying. Death was definitely a change, and not one that would be ignored.
St. Brendan spoke again, his voice a spoken sort of music with its rhythmic lilt. “Humans have the power of choice on Earth while they live. Yes, Death is, but it is only a way to pull what has lasted into what will always last, and a way for what cannot last to be carried off.”
“Uh-huh. I see.” I turned back to look at the scenery before us, where black chunks of rock and hardness drifted silently. I was again reminded of what the demon inside of Logan had said: To be a fallen star was a punishment.
With the eerie scars of fallen stars around me, I decided I didn’t really want to talk about this stuff anymore.
“So, what star are you?” I asked, trying to be polite.
“I’m not a star,” St. Brendan said with a laugh. “I’m a Reborn.”
“A Reborn?” I asked.
“I was a human on Earth,” he explained. “And when my body died, my spirit was called, and my soul came home. So here I am now.”
“Oh. So, when did you live?”
“Oh, I’d lived many years before you,” he said. “I made my life and living with the sea, in search of meaning and lasting treasure. I did not find it on Earth, but I found someone who knew the way.”
“To Eternity. Then to here.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “Once I arrived, I was given my job. I map out the worlds all through Eternity and Time, and to the higher realms as well. I record all I find in my log, and I keep it updated.”
“Were you here before I fell?” I asked.
“I was, yes.” He turned away from me, looking out at something beyond the endless horizon. “You were the Star of Fire, you know.”
“I was?” I asked, suddenly awed. I’d forgotten I didn’t like him as I leaned in to hear more of the story.
“Yes. It’s what you were named for.”
“Wingdinger?”
St. Brendan laughed, slapping me on the back in a congenial manner. “I’d forgotten how forgetful the Milky Way’s Veil can make you. Sit for a spell, lad, and enjoy the view. I’ve got to make my rounds. My crew has their jobs as well as I’ve got mine.” He gave me a kind of salute and walked away.
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