by E A Comiskey
He set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. "I mean no disrespect Risa, but your mother's people will not be too quick to accept a three-quarter demon."
It was an old argument, raised many times before. Risa answered him with patience. "My people have fought demonkind, it's true, but Hala's Gift will persuade them. And besides, Donovan tells us that their quarrel is with humans these days."
"You don't think there's any chance they'll find Hala to be a threat? One who can…" He used a word I was unfamiliar with.
"What is that word?" I asked.
"Manipulate," Puah said. "It means to create an advantage or make something seem different than it really is to get your way." She turned a critical eye on her father. "And it's not fair to say that's what Hala does."
Edward held his hands out before him. "Maybe not, but the Fae might interpret it that way, and they're not known for trusting outsiders."
"I have trusted you with my very life, have I not?" Risa asked. "My mother's people took in the blood drinker Timothy and his family, when they needed guidance. We are not bad people."
"Of course not." Hala spoke up, and he put an arm around his match. "No one is saying they are bad.”
"I can manipulate," I told them.
The conversation stopped. Five pairs of eyes stared at me.
Risa shook her head. "Hala has a special Gift. When we are near him we can't help but feel love. Maybe some could view it as a manipulation of feelings, but that's not what it is. Not really. And it has brought nothing but peace to this place.”
I chewed on my lip. I could let the conversation move on. I could keep my secret.
Puah's eyes met mine. She knew and had remained silent on my behalf. How many secrets did she keep? Her sanity was a miracle.
"Please explain to them," she said.
I want to be good, like you. Being honest is part of that.
She nodded.
With a fortifying breath, I lifted my hands and explained. "I have a special Gift, like Hala. My father said it was because my mother was a goddess. I can manipulate."
Still, none of them spoke.
I inhaled slowly, allowing the intention to swirl in the pit of my belly. Exhaling, I released it into the world.
Edward clapped his hands. "You know what would be fun?" He looked around at the others, a wide smile on his face. "We should sing!"
Puah frowned. "Daddy? What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about singing. Come on!" He broke out in a quick, silly tune while the others watched with wide eyes. When he got to the end he laughed loudly. "What a bunch of spoilsports you are. You should have sung with me."
William raised an eyebrow at me. "You made him do that?"
"Yes," I said.
Edward chuckled. "That's nonsense. No one made me do anything. It just struck me that it would be fun to sing."
"Sing? Really, Daddy? I've never heard you sing outside of a worship service in your whole life. Think about it. Why would you start singing in the middle of a conversation?" Puah asked.
"I… I think…" he stammered, confusion darkening his expression.
I let the intention build once more and looked to William, who stood and opened each of the cabinet doors in the kitchen before sitting down as though nothing had happened.
Edward ran a hand over his short hair.
Risa's mouth hung open.
Hala's wide eyes were fixed on me.
"I can manipulate," I said again.
"Can you make anyone do anything?" Risa asked.
"No. I can't make someone do something that is against the inclination of their heart, and I lose power with the same person over time."
"People become immune to your influence?" Hala asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know that word."
"It no longer works on them after a time."
"That's right," I agreed.
"Well, this is… interesting," William said. "But it's taken us pretty far from the original topic.”
Hala stretched, putting an arm around his match. "Yes, but there's no more to say, really. I am called to go. I'm quite sure of it."
Puah politely excused herself from the table to begin cleaning up. I couldn't help noticing the frown that creased her lovely brow. I wondered again at the enormous burden of knowing the thoughts of everyone you loved.
Seven
I spent my hours in the library, drawing information into myself like it was the air I needed to breathe. Hala stacked books in front of me and explained each word I stumbled over. Every day reading was a little easier than it had been the day before.
Morgan gave me leather-bound books with blank pages and told me that, someday, someone else would want to know my history as much as I wanted to know the history of those who came before me. It was hard to believe, but I practiced forming the little letters on scraps so that, when the time came, I could write in a style as pretty as such precious books deserved.
Tiny buds, invisible from a distance, created a red glow around the tops of the barren trees.
Puah gave birth to the prettiest baby girl I'd ever seen, with enormous brown eyes and nearly as much hair as a grown woman. Risa kissed the baby and lavished it with attention, but at home she grew sullen and snapped at Hala. He responded by being away more and more. He told us we would leave when the mud dried.
I looked at the sludge that covered our front yard and doubted that day would come.
Risa snapped at him about having big dreams and procrastinating out of fear and doubt.
I could turn my back to shut out the argument, but I couldn't help noticing the house shaking with slamming doors and stomping feet. I slipped away to see Puah, confident that, with three little ones, she could use some help.
I found her sitting on the steps of her house, the new baby tightly wrapped in blankets and held in her arms, the older children covered from head to toe in dirt and giggling like madmen.
"They look happy," I said.
"Yes. I suppose that will make the effort of getting them clean again worth it." She slid to the left and patted the step next to her. "I'm glad you came. I imagine Hala will be wanting to leave soon."
"He says we'll go when the mud dries."
She nodded. "It will happen faster than it seems on days like this. You know, you don't have to go. You'll always have a place here, if you want it."
Images of Hala, lifting me from Shifrah's arms, sitting on my bedside in the healing center, smiling at me across the table, drifted through my mind. I tried to structure a thought comparing the difference between the way the world looked to me before I knew him, and the way I saw things now. It was the only way I could explain.
Puah watched her children and chewed on her lip. After a moment or two she said, "Hala and Risa have been together for a very long time, and they are not human."
I know.
She looked up at the sky for a moment, seeming to search for her words there. "They have made a vow to be matched to one another until one of them passes to the spirit Realms."
They are a wonderful match, don't you think? Even when they fight, they plainly love each other.
She called out to her daughter to stop putting mud on her baby brother's head. "I do think they are well-matched. Anyone who tries to separate them may find themselves sorely disappointed."
Why would anyone separate them? I jumped up to help the little boy wipe filth from his eyes. He pushed my hands away and dove right back into the muck.
When I sat down again, Puah took my hand in hers. "Hala is an extraordinary creature. In many ways, he is more like the beings of the Realms than like a human. His Gift is unusual, and wonderful, and astonishingly powerful. It is a blessing to us all."
I am a better person in his presence.
She nodded. "We all are."
A fear I'd never known before crawled out from the dark corner of my mind. In all my life, I had never cared about the opinion of others. I hadn't respected them enough to concern
myself with their thoughts about me, but Puah was different. She was the kindest person I'd ever known. Have I disappointed you? Are you angry with me?
"No." She called out to the children once more and then, to me, said, "You haven't done anything wrong at all. I'm amazed at how well you've adapted to our life here. Everything. Our silly worries about manners and custom. And your language! You are a fast learner! I just…" She sighed. "I don't usually interfere like this."
You're worried about me?
"I am. There are different kinds of love, right?"
Yes, of course.
"You feel like Hala is the father you never had, right? He and Risa--they're you're parents?"
They are my family now.
She nodded. "OK. That's good. There is nothing at all wrong with that. That Which Is has brought you all together as a family, and you are all better for it but… just… beware of the way love can change."
I will always love them.
"I know. Just… be aware, OK?"
I nodded, even though I didn't exactly understand. Puah, having a lifetime of experience leaving people to their own thoughts, let the subject drop, and passed the sleeping baby into my arms to go herd her children toward the outdoor hose. She rinsed them off as they squealed and protested, laughed and tried to escape. I thought she must have been blessed for all her goodness with the most beautiful life of anyone I'd ever known.
Eight
The morning of our departure arrived like a dream. A moment of terror seized me upon waking. Had I really said goodbye to Puah and her family? To Morgan and the others I'd met? Why was I leaving this place that I loved? We were safe here, and we laughed more than we cried. There was always enough food, and no one froze to death in the night. What were we thinking? How could we be doing this?
I stood in my room, trembling, my breath coming in short, wavering gasps.
Risa appeared in the door. "Almost ready?" she asked. Her face was a perfect mask of neutrality. I could not have said if she was happy or sad, excited or terrified. I was frozen. I couldn't answer her. I couldn't go on this trip.
Hala stepped up behind her. His bronze skin glowed in the soft morning light. His green eyes flashed. His smile shone like the sun. "Today's the day, kid! No wasting the light. Got to get a move-on."
Under his gaze, my reservations melted away. I wasn't leaving home. I was following my home. "I'm ready," I said.
I followed them into the kitchen where Hala put a cup of tea in front of me. "Warm your bones before you go. Risa pours that stuff on the plants. Maybe it will help you grow."
I reached up to smack his arm. It was like hitting a wall. "We can't all be giant demon kings," I said. Had I been afraid? Of what? What silliness to let fear conquer the excitement of a grand adventure.
"Fair enough. You can't deny you're abnormally tiny, though," he teased, picking up the ancient gourd he always wore and looping it around his neck. His pack was enormous; three times the size of the one I carried.
The next moment Risa helped me with my own pack, and soon after we were on the path. The city faded behind us, obscured by the fog.
The morning air rose around us in a chilly mist. We walked three across with Hala in the middle, the glue that held us all together. If they talked with one another, I was unaware of it. The terrain wasn't difficult, but it was wilderness, covered with rocks and vines that sprouted up between and among dark, wooded areas. It took most of my focus to not lose my footing. On ice, and in deep snow, I was at home. I'd scaled a glacier for the first time at the age of six. This aggressive greenery was still a new world to me. Nature seemed desperate to cover the maximum amount of space, choking on its own growth. Birds flew overhead in great clouds that cast shadows across the earth. Furry creatures skittered among the trees, hopping from branch to branch with ease. Snakes watched us from the tops of warm rocks. If we stopped, even for a moment, insects crept across our sandaled feet.
The sun climbed in front of us, blinding us with its startling brilliance. Hala told me that, eventually, we would have to turn south to get around the Great Swamps. Before he was born, he said, people drained the swamps and built great cities in these lands. I wasn’t sure if he was teasing me or not. How could anyone thrive where the flora was trying to consume everything in its path?
When we stopped for lunch next to a clear-running stream, Risa stared at me with her head cocked to the side. She chewed the piece of bread she’d broken off. I shifted, uncomfortable under her gaze, and she laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to stare. I was just wondering about something I haven’t thought about before.” She crossed her legs and leaned her elbows on her knees. “Your mother is a being of the Realms, right? And your father was pure human?”
I shrugged, baffled by this line of questioning. “As far as I know. Why?”
“Well, Hala’s mother was half human, half demon. His father was a being of the Realms, too.”
“Don’t make it sound like a good thing,” Hala said. “He was powerful, but evil in the most terrible sense of the word.”
“He has never been in your life?” I asked.
Hala took a long drink of water. “Never. He was killed in the great Battle, and more praise to That Which Is for ridding the universe of his filth. You say your mother is a goddess. My father was no god. He was a demon.”
I looked to Risa for explanation. “The gods are beings created to rule in their Realms. The demons were beings created to serve, who refused their position. They are powerful, but they are not gods.”
When Morgan helped me read the history of the city, I'd read that Hala hadn’t yet been born at the time of the Great Battle. He had learned all he knew of his father from his mother. I wondered what Hala's father had done that made her hate him so much. I thought of my own past and suspected Hala’s mother and I had a great deal in common. The best day of my life was the day Donovan killed my father.
As though he’d read my thoughts, Hala said, “I am glad I never had to face him. It is a test of character I’m not sure I could have passed.”
“Anyway,” Risa said, “My point is that the children of those who are very powerful tend to be powerful themselves. You’ve shown us your Gift but…” She let the sentence trail away, picked up the knife she’d used to slice her apple, and jammed it into Hala’s thigh.
“Woman!” he exclaimed, pulling the weapon from his leg. The flow of blood slowed to a stop almost immediately. When he wiped it away, no wound remained. “Do you have any idea how much that stings?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed at my stunned, open-mouthed expression.
“As far as we know, Hala, descended from an immortal is, himself, immortal, despite his human blood. My mother was Fae and, though my father was human, I seem to have the lifespan of the Fae. We are not immortal, but much longer-lived than humans.”
“You think I’m immortal?” I asked. I was stunned. The idea had never crossed my mind.
“Do you think you are?” She asked.
“No. I nearly froze to death the night I was taken from my village. I’ve been wounded in battle, and I healed with scars as anyone else would. I don’t think I’m anything special at all.”
Hala reached forward and mussed my hair. “Sure you are, kid. You don’t have to be immortal to be special.”
The blush burned my cheeks. I looked away, taking another bite of my food.
He stood quickly, drawing my gaze. “What’s that noise?” he asked.
Risa’s eyes were on the forest. “It sounds like something is wounded.”
We packed up our belongings and stood once more. Hala led us into the dark cover of the trees, walking slowly in parallel with the river, his head cocked as though he was led by his ears rather than his eyes. After a few hundred feet, he stopped. His shoulders slumped. Risa and I pressed around him for a look.
At the river’s edge, a mother wolf lay limp and wet, undeniably dead. A single tiny pup lay curled against her body, nose towa
rd the sky. The mother was mangled and dirty, smaller and darker than the wolves from my home. The pup’s leg bent at an awkward angle. Its fur was matted. Hala sighed and took his knife from its loop on his pack.
I grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”
“It’s in pain, Jax. It will starve or be killed by another animal if we just leave it here.”
“So you’re going to kill it?”
“It’s more merciful to put it out of its misery.”
My gut twisted painfully. “You can’t kill it,” I told him, desperation welling up inside me. For the first time I was dissatisfied with my fantastic gloves. To speak was not enough. I wanted to scream.
Pity ruled his features, and I felt the sweet, calming influence of his Gift. I loved him, but the love he drew forth from my spirit extended to the weak, broken, half-drowned creature in the mud before us as well. “My entire life has been killing. I will have no part in one more death of any kind if there’s even the smallest chance I can stop it. To say that killing is merciful because death is easy…” I sniffed and shook my head. I couldn’t finish the thought. I wouldn’t cry over a puppy, but I wouldn’t let this killing happen, either. Somehow it felt like the new-found purity of my soul depended on saving that baby’s life.
I turned my back on him and went to the river’s edge. The new boots I'd been given for our journey sank deep into the muck. I struggled to keep my balance as I reached down. The pup squirmed, frantic in my hands as I lifted him away from his mother. He nipped at me with tiny, ineffectual teeth. I moved to a large flat rock and sat down with him in my lap. Scooping water in my hand, I rinsed away the worst of the dirt so I could get a closer look at his broken leg.
It wasn't so bad. The bone hadn't come through the skin. I moved away from the water, laid him on a bed of soft leaves on the forest floor, and fished through my pack for a scrap of cloth that had been wrapped around the bread. Risa's hand was on my shoulder. I shrugged it off, kept my focus on the task at hand, and in a few moments the leg was set and tightly bound.
