by E A Comiskey
My hands took on a life of their own, rubbing the soap across my stomach and up to my breasts, around my nipples. I leaned against the wall, letting my head fall to one side.
Hala stood in the washroom doorway, holding a towel in one hand. His eyes met mine and crawled down the length of my body. I closed my eyes and arched my back, continuing where I left off, excited beyond all reason, knowing that he was watching me.
My body craved more than I could give it. The release I found was a like single slice of bread, given to a starving person, but it was release. Still panting, I covered my breasts with my arms, feeling shy, and opened my eyes.
The towel hung on a hook beside the closed door.
I turned off the water with a trembling hand, not sure if I was thankful or humiliated that he'd left. Both, I think.
When I dressed and stepped from the washroom, I found a wide-eyed, slightly breathless, very disheveled Risa sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Are you OK?" I asked.
She blinked slowly, as though processing the simple words. "Yes. Yes, I… Hala…" She blinked again. "I'm fine. I'm going to take a shower now."
She stood and walked past me, and I noticed the faint imprint of a hand on the dark skin of her shoulder, as though someone had squeezed hard enough to leave a bruise.
I climbed the little wooden stairs and stepped out onto the deck of the boat.
We floated in the center of the wide river, propelled along by a tall wheel. Wooden paddles smacked the water with powerful, rhythmic splashes that vibrated through the floor. Hala stood at the rail at the front of the ship. On watery legs, I approached him.
Warm, humid air slithered around my body. Certainly, if I could hear, this thick, humid breeze would whisper secrets to me, would tease me about my reaction to Adolphe, would mock my efforts at goodness, when I was incontestably no more than a creature of flesh and desire.
Wolf lay on the deck, panting. He opened one eye to see who was passing and went back to sleep.
Standing at Hala's side, the ancient trees with their curtains of heavy moss slid past us. A family of deer returned our stares with wide, black eyes from the riverbank.
"Something is broken at the core of me," Hala said. "I don't know how to fix it."
"You are a good man."
"Compared to who?"
"Compared to every other man I've ever known."
"No offense, kid, but you've known some terrible men."
I couldn't argue with that.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I'm not."
An alligator slipped off a wide rock into the water, disappearing beneath its dark depths.
"Do you know anything of the old religions?" he asked me.
It took me a moment to process the strange, seemingly out-of-place question. "Not really. My people didn't think of much beyond themselves. If they worshipped it was because a god was nearby and they were begging favors."
"Religion is a funny thing. In the time before the Great Battle, the gods and all those who weren't pure human kept to themselves, more or less. People based their knowledge on ancient texts and stories passed down from their ancestors. My mother always said if you looked at the stories closely enough, they all told the same tale. We are created by a single powerful being."
"That Which Is."
He nodded. "That Which Is, the God of the gods. We were all created by one being, and that being created the world for us to thrive in. Somewhere along the line, people did something to separate themselves from their source. The result was every bad thing that ever happened. Separated from Source, we became less than we should have been." He laughed in a strange mirthless way that hurt my heart. "We. I say that like I'm part of the human race. My kind's separation from That Which Is is a whole legend unto itself."
"You are human, too," I said.
He gave a little shake of his head but said nothing else about that. "Every region of the world had its own beliefs about That Which Is. They all created systems of worship. Religion. Donovan remembers the wars. He remembers his teachers at school teaching him to take cover in case someone of a different faith came into the building to kill them."
"But they all believed in the same Creator?"
Hala shrugged. "I guess they thought there were differences. Then the angel, Raziel, came to Donovan's mother and asked her to interpret between humans and those who were not human. She tried but, in the end, most everyone was too invested in their own personal belief system to hear what she said. It's been five hundred years and Donovan will still cry, talking about the day That Which Is put an end to the disputes."
He was still then, and I thought maybe he was done, but after a minute or two he went on. "The thing is, after that day we knew for sure That Which Is was real. That He… She… It, whatever, had created everything and ruled the Realms. No barriers existed. The gods lived on Earth and shared their wisdom. Everywhere, everyone spoke the truth, that there is One God Who Rules all. People didn’t need to fight over religion anymore. The wars came to an end."
"That's good, right?"
Hala shrugged. "I don't know. We had all this knowledge, but we didn't do anything with it. We sang songs about That Which Is. We prayed thanks, but we didn't do anything. It didn't change who we were in any fundamental way. Donovan's mother believed That Which Is once came to Earth as a man. He lived a perfect life. He loved everyone, and took healing and grace with him everywhere he went. She believed that by emulating his faith, we could all reconnect to Source, which lived in all our hearts, and be saved from our broken nature."
"Did it work for her?"
"She was the best person I ever knew. She stood in front of an army, and That Which Is saved her, because of her extraordinary faith. She cared for those who couldn't care for themselves. She loved the unlovable."
He met my eye for the first time since I'd joined him. "If she made a vow, she would keep it, no matter what."
"Adolphe has a dozen wives," I said. The fresh air had cleared the fog in my mind. My words did not come from some magically-induced madness.
He looked back out to the river and said nothing more about that. "How do I know if the pull on my heart comes from That Which Is, or if it is my own evil desires and my imagination, yearning for things that are not meant to be mine?"
"Maybe, if That Which Is resides in your heart, those two things are the same."
"So we should follow every desire of our heart?"
"No. That's what my people did. They deserved what happened to them, the destruction that came to them."
"Maybe we all deserve destruction, Jax. Maybe that was Donovan's mother's point. We all deserve destruction, but That Which Is sends us the sun and rain anyway. If we can love and forgive one another like our Creator loves and forgives us, then maybe our connection to Source would be restored."
I couldn't talk about love with him. I wasn't that strong. I looked away, toward the river, watching the city come into view like a mirage, rising up from the watery world.
Soon, he left, presumably to let Risa know we were close.
No single whisper in my heart spoke to me. A thousand voices competed for my attention. How could I ever know which was the voice of The Creator? It wasn’t the one that spoke the loudest. That voice told me I was acting like a fool. I had it in my power to have exactly what I wanted. Why not just take it? It was not the voice of That Which Is, but the voice of my father that spoke within me.
With a sigh, I turned and sank to the floor, resting my forehead on my knees. Wolf lay next to me, pressing his head under my hand. I scratched his ears, envying him his simple existence.
Fifteen
The air of Orleans pulsed with magic and hung heavy with desire. The musky stink of the satyrs mingled with the thick perfume of jasmine, wrapping itself around the population, transforming everyone into a possible lover.
People here moved through the streets wearing next to nothing, skin shining with a thin veil of sweat despite autum
n temperatures that would have been considered mild anywhere else.
Enormous metal transports with rows of windows rolled through the streets under wires that sparked and hummed with electricity. Men in tall hats and colorful coats stood on street corners, selling flowers that shed their orange and yellow pollen like so much blood on the road. Women wore wild printed fabrics that caressed them in the gentle breeze and wrapped between their legs as though trying to satisfy the constant craving brought on by this impossible place. They called out to us as we passed, making promises that they could tell us our future, making offers to take Hala to bed and, as often as not, to take Risa and I as well.
Food competed with sex in constant temptation. Rich, fluffy rolls, thick bubbling stews, fragrant sausages cooked with seafood and vegetables. Every place that sold food offered an abundance of wine.
Satyr children raced on furry legs through the city streets, snatching rolls from the vendors and making lewd gestures at the women. The adults laughed at their antics. No one made any move to discipline them.
It was impossible to take a breath deep enough to fill myself. A man on a street corner played a musical instrument and three women danced, arms raised to the sky, moving their bodies as though making love to the sound carried on the air. If only I could hear him, perhaps I could release some of this deliciously unbearable tension in dance.
The buildings were ancient, beautiful, and half rotted away. Crumbling bricks, peeling paint, and rusty metal gates seemed all the fashion. The decay only added to the magic.
Every so often, Hala would ask if anyone knew Dragon. They all did. He was famous in this place for his bright blue skin and his faithfulness to his wife, despite being longed after by half the city.
With enthusiastic but vague directions and gestures, the people on the streets pointed us toward a neighborhood that stood out amid a city of the extraordinary.
Enormous houses with massive pillars supporting wide, luxurious porches lined the streets. Flowering vines crawled the fences and consumed the structures. Willows with swaying branches reached for us as we moved along the shady path. They waved their limbs in protest when the rattling metal transports rushed by.
Dragon's house was easy to identify. Across the roof and down one side of the house, black solar panels, identical to those in Hala's city, gleamed in the misty sunlight. A wide grin spread across Hala's face and he walked faster, practically running up the steps.
He rapped on the door with his knuckles, and several seconds later it was opened. Before us stood a man as tall and broad-shouldered as Hala, wearing loose white pants that contrasted brilliantly with his dark blue skin. Horns curled out of his dark, messy hair, but the blue feet sticking out of the bottom of his pants were human-shaped.
The man's eyes grew impossibly wide. "Tell me you haven't come to drag me north to rebuild your city."
"I've come to eat your food and hear your stories," Hala said with his hands and lips.
The man wrapped Hala in a powerful hug, and they slapped each other on the back in the weird display of strength that men couldn't seem to hold back from. Dragon pulled away, grabbed Hala's face and kissed him on both cheeks. "By That Which Is, it is good to see you, my friend." He turned to Risa and pulled her into his arms. "Risa, you are more glorious than ever. Thank you for bringing this fool to my doorstep."
"It was the fool's idea." She said the words with laughter, but I saw a shadow pass over Hala's face.
"And who is this beauty?" Dragon asked. "I swear, Hala, you do attract the most extraordinary women."
Hala pressed a hand to the curve of my back.
I fought the urge to curl into his arm and press myself against his body. How could anyone live in this place? How did they manage to get anything done?
"This is Jax, a very good friend, introduced to us by Donovan and Shifrah. And that," he pointed at Wolf, who waited obediently on the grassy area in front of the house, "is the wolf puppy she adopted."
"You're a Were?" Dragon asked.
"No. Just a girl who saw a puppy that needed some help," I said.
He raised his eyebrows at my way of speaking, but didn't mention it. Instead, he said, "You are more than just a girl. I'd wager my life on it." He stepped back, opening the door wider. "Come in and say hello to my family."
Hala followed Dragon into the house, and I looked to Risa. "He doesn't ask about my way of speaking."
"This is a big city, and the hand-speech is not unheard of. He probably knows others who use the same language. Perhaps without the fantastic gloves, though," she said.
The idea that there were others like me seemed as magical as the rest of this place. Of course, I knew I wasn't the only deaf person in the history of the world, but I'd never met another.
I stepped over the threshold behind Risa, and a weight I'd not fully appreciated was lifted from my shoulders. Inside this home the air was cool and dry, and the smell of old wood and clean leather lingered. For the first time since approaching Adolphe's home, I felt capable of clear thought.
Next to me, Risa drew in a deep breath. Her shoulders fell slightly forward as though she, too, were relieved to be inside this refuge.
The room was a work of art. There were shelves of books and lovely trinkets, polished wooden tables, a crystal chandelier with tiny drips of wax dangling, frozen, from the candle holders. Overstuffed leather furniture surrounded a glass top table where purple and orange flowers sprouted from the top of a copper vase. Electric lamps offered a soft glow beneath cream colored shades. Heavy curtains hung at the sides of the windows. Through the glass, the magical city went on with its life like a play on a stage.
I focused on Dragon in time to catch the last part of what he was saying. "… blame her for being tired, but I know she'll murder me if I don't wake her for this." He disappeared up the wide wooden staircase.
Risa dropped onto the couch and rubbed a hand over her face. "I feel like I just woke up after a night of drinking too much wine."
Hala took his pack off and set it near the door before joining her. "Donovan told me about the magic of the other cities, but I didn't understand. I didn't really listen. I thought I ruled the center of civilization."
I sat across from them. "You're too hard on yourself. It's impossible to know how much you don't know."
"And foolish to believe you know better than those who have seen." He waved the statement away. "It doesn't matter. A small thing when compared with all my other mistakes." He stood and walked to the window, turning his back to us.
Risa gazed at him with sad eyes.
I switched my gloves to the "silent" setting and used my hands to tell Risa, "You have to make things right for him again." Her silent agreement with his disparaging words irritated me.
"I don't know how," she answered in the same silent way.
"You know him better than anyone."
She shook her head. "That used to be true." She glanced at him again.
Without thinking, I let my will reach out to her.
Her eyes moved to me, wide and full of hope. "We should tell him about the baby. It would give him hope for his vision for the future."
"You should tell him," I said. "You need to convince him that it's right, that it's what you really want, or he won't go along with it."
"He doesn't need convincing," she said.
My heart pounded in my breast. I glanced around, desperate that no one would interrupt us at this crucial moment. "He is obsessed with keeping his vow to you," I said to Risa. "It's the one thing he's certain he's done right." Guilt nagged at me. It was a true statement, and I was pushing him toward breaking that vow, toward what he would view as another failure.
"He called out your name when he laid with me on the boat. In his heart, he is already with you."
My hands lay in my lap, leaden and cold.
Risa's eyes moved to the stairs, and she painted a smile across her face. "Stella!" She jumped up to embrace her friend.
Hala's ey
es met mine, and I knew I was too weak-willed to stop what I had already set in motion.
~*~
Stella cooked a meal fit for the gods, apparently unhampered by her enormous belly, the infant in the pack on her back, or the toddler crawling around the kitchen floor. Risa and I chopped vegetables and rolled dough according to her orders. They seemed to be chattering constantly, but I couldn't follow the conversation or I'd risk losing a finger under the steel blade she'd given me.
Around the table, it was easier. Questions and answers flowed in an endless stream. Yes, they had heard the rumors of the Fae declaring war. Dragon scoffed at the concerns of the Fae over the environment. "Men can't destroy a planet. It's absurd. The Fae are just possessive of their territory and hungry to expand their power."
"The Fae are guardians of nature," Risa argued. "We are connected to it. We nearly died in the old days, because of the careless ways of man."
"And so the Creator stepped in. That Which Is will not let evil run rampant. There will always be justice."
Stella artfully changed the subject. She chattered on, reminding me very much of Puah. “What news of Donovan? We've not seen him since last summer. Shifrah's grandmother took a notion to sail south. Can you imagine? At her age? On a quest for adventure! Well, they came to see her off, but haven't been heard from since.”
Finally, the food was gone and we all sat back in our chairs, too full to move.
Dragon sipped at his wine. "Why are you traveling, really? I thought you'd stay and rebuild your city. That place was your whole life."
Hala drained his glass and set the cup very carefully on the polished table. "Why does everyone call it my city?"
Stella laughed. "Maybe because you built it. You ruled it. You defended it when it came under attack. Nothing happened there that didn't happen because of you."
He poured himself another glass of wine and drank half of it in a single gulp.
Risa answered for him. "Hala felt called to journey. He believes there is a place promised to him. He will know it when he sees it. He has been given a vision of a legacy, and it didn't include the city we left behind."
