Mortal Fire

by C F Dunn

  He looked out over the lake and part of him seemed to be as distant as the mountains, and as unreal. Eventually, he looked down at me.

  “They will be happy. We all have to move on; at some point things have to change.”

  I wanted him to go on, to tell me more, but instead he evaded further questions and leaned sideways and brought out a plate and napkin from the basket for me, followed by a selection of tantalizing foods I could easily eat with my fingers. I felt hungry again, despite breakfast.

  “These are lovely, Matthew, thank you. Are you having anything to eat?” I asked, sounding fearfully like my mother.

  “Yes, of course.”

  He picked up a finely cut sandwich, and the corners of his mouth flexed into that peculiar tightness they assumed whenever he hid something from me. My eyes widened and he saw that I had seen.

  “I had a large breakfast – I’m not that hungry,” he said in explanation.

  “Really.” My tone clearly showed I didn’t believe him. He bit the edge off the sandwich and chewed, but it seemed an awkward action, as if unfamiliar. I continued to stare at him and he avoided my gaze, the sandwich abandoned in his hand.

  “Tea, Matthew?” I offered, already knowing what the answer would be.

  He skimmed a look at me.

  “No, thank you.” He edged off the table. “Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea…”

  “Why?” I demanded. I put the plate on the table and waited but he didn’t clarify his remark. “Why won’t you eat or drink in front of me? What are you hiding, Matthew? Why won’t you tell me?”

  He remained standing with his back to me, and something inside me snapped. Simmering frustration, borne of weeks of suppressed emotion, erupted. I threw my napkin on the table, not caring that the sudden movement hurt, and slid off it without looking at him again. I began to march stiffly towards the edge of the lake, my mind in turmoil.

  The air static, not a whisper moved the still waters. Sandy gravel lay frozen in uneven ridges under my feet where the lake had swollen in late-summer rains. A flash of memory interposed, so at odds with my current situation that I would have cried had I not been so bewildered. It reminded me of seaside holidays in Devon, when the rising and falling of the long tide left a desert of sand in intricate patterns along the beach, the evening sun casting dune-like shadows we destroyed with our toes. But this wasn’t Devon, and I was no longer a child, and the man I loved lied to me.

  I had known it for some time, of course, but had chosen not to acknowledge it, so I didn’t have to face the inevitable questions such knowledge brings. And while I kept lying to myself, I could continue blindly believing that everything would be all right. But everything had changed because he knew that I knew, and that made all the difference. We could no longer maintain this pretence, this charade of normality; either he told me or…

  … or what?

  The obvious conclusion to my own question was one I dared not voice. My love for him ran through every cell of my body and I no longer doubted his feelings for me; but it wasn’t enough. I had lived another man’s lie before, and I had sworn then that it was a mistake I would never repeat.

  The shore of the lake stretched in an arc, the water’s edge encrusted with a frozen foam that collapsed crisply as I crushed it underfoot, my hooded head bent, the silence filled with splintering ice – so I didn’t hear anything until Matthew shattered the calm.

  “Emma!” he bellowed in fear from where I had left him. I turned in his direction but at the same time a low rumble sounded behind me. I whirled around to face a swaying mound of teeth and claws as a bear the height of a tall man rose above me. Brown-black fur matted its bulky frame, its small coal eyes malicious in hunger. It raised a massive paw, its claws dark, flesh-stripping crescents. Rigid with dread, I was too close to escape, too slow to run. I closed my eyes as the bear moved in to strike.

  I heard feet pounding across the frozen ground and a hard moving object struck me from the side, knocking the breath from my lungs. Encasing my body, an iron cage flung me around and out of the reach of the bear like a damp rag. The wooded slopes reverberated to the bear’s roar and from the corner of my eye, I saw the sweep of claws, then the sound of tearing fabric, and my body vibrated from the impact of the blow. I fought wildly, lashing out irrespective of the pain, and the cage materialized into arms that abruptly released me, and I nearly collapsed. Finding my feet, I turned unsteadily to face the animal.

  “Stay still!” Matthew ordered.

  I froze.

  On all fours, the bear smelt the air as it swayed this way and that, looking for an opportunity to strike again, and Matthew stood between, the ragged remains of his coat hanging from his shoulders, his own body taut and waiting. The animal stopped for a moment, and then a deep, penetrating growl rolled out, filling the air with rage. Matthew shifted position, closing the gap between him and the bear, and it swayed back, surprise in its small, black eyes. At that distance, it had only to take a swipe with its paw and Matthew would be killed in an instant.

  “Matthew…!”

  Without moving or turning his head, he called out.

  “Stay back, Emma.”

  The animal moaned, switching its attention to me, indecisive.

  “Here,” Matthew clapped his hands with a sharp report and drew its focus back to him, and the bear rumbled, confused.

  “Get back to the car,” he commanded me. I began to back off slowly, torn by my instinct to stay and protect him, no matter the futility of it, and the overwhelming authority in his voice. “Now, Emma.”

  The animal rose once more onto its hind legs, hunger fuelling its obstinacy. Mesmerized, my heart pounding, I saw it ready itself for the kill. Matthew stood his ground, mere feet between him and the animal; he didn’t stand a chance.

  “Leave him alone!” I screamed at the animal, dashing out from behind Matthew’s protecting back towards the bear, all sense gone in my fear. Matthew swore violently, at the same time catching me in one quick movement and hauling me behind him. Turning on the animal again, he moved forwards, his shoulders hunched, his arms outstretched. The bear landed heavily on all paws, blowing in short snorts and swatting the ground with its paws. Its huge head rocked back and forth as if viewing its options and then it turned, and lumbered back towards the safety of the trees. Matthew continued to watch it until it was beyond sight, before turning back to me.

  “What do you think you were doing?” he raged, coming towards me with his fists still clenched and his eyes black with fury. I shrank back and he stopped, visibly controlling his anger. He breathed deeply, flexing his fingers. I could raise no more than a whisper.

  “It was going to kill you.”

  Exasperation creased his brow.

  “No, it was not; I wasn’t in any danger; it was after you, Emma.”

  I didn’t believe him. “But your back, Matthew – look at your back – your coat!”

  He twisted round, pulling his coat at the same time so that he could see more of the back. Shredded, the thick fabric hung in loose strands where the bear’s claws had rent it from shoulder to waist, his shirt pale blue against the dark, like the slashed sleeves of a medieval doublet. I waited for the blood to seep through, red against blue, for him to realize his injury and collapse, his hot life staining the freezing ground around him.

  “Mm, that’s a shame, I liked this coat.”

  My voice quaked as shock set in and I began to tremble uncontrollably.

  “Matthew!”

  “I’m fine, Emma; I’m not hurt – it didn’t touch me – but what about you? Did I hurt you…?”

  He took a few steps towards me, concern replacing the wrath as he took in my state. I backed away from him, trusting what I had heard and seen, incredulous that he wasn’t taking his injuries seriously.

  “But it struck you – I felt it; I know it did, Matthew – I heard it.”

  He came closer, his eyes locking mine. “You can see I’m all right; it’s just wrec
ked my coat, that’s all.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Emma, please…” he begged; close enough to touch me, he held his arms by his sides. I closed my eyes and swallowed as the landscape rocked beneath me.

  “I thought it was going to kill you.”

  I felt his hand on my shoulder then around my back as he drew close to me, human again.

  “I know – it’s all right; let’s get you back.”

  I let him fold me in his arms, but then pulled away roughly, trying very hard to control the shaking that rolled through my body as I spoke clearly and deliberately, my jaw aching with the effort.

  “I don’t understand what just happened – why you aren’t hurt or dead – and I don’t know how you did what you did, but I will find out one way or another. So if you don’t mind, I would rather you just got on with it and… and… told… and told me…”

  I couldn’t go on. My mouth opened and shut but my brain refused to supply it with any more words. I hid my face behind my arms.

  “Emma…”

  He put his arms around me again; this time I didn’t pull away and instead let him walk me slowly back towards the car, every step painful because the strapping had slipped and my chest jarred. His blank expression told me there would be no point in asking any more questions; another incongruity in the long list I had been compiling that I could no longer accept at face value.

  “That didn’t go quite as planned,” he said conversationally, as the car drew smoothly across the grit and slid between the trees, leaving the car-park empty and devoid of life. “The mild spell we’ve had must have delayed hibernation.”

  The bear could have been a tiger for all I cared at that moment.

  “How did you get to me so quickly?”

  Even to my own ears, my voice sounded flat and featureless – almost disinterested – as I watched for his reaction: he glanced sharply at me, although his reply was seamless.

  “I used to compete in athletics – it was instinctive.”

  I hadn’t seen him sprint towards me, but I often had an overwhelming feeling that he restrained an impulse to run – but so fast?

  “You said it should have been hibernating – the bear – it shouldn’t have been there, Matthew.”

  For a split second I thought he would defend himself.

  “Yes, I should have known,” he acceded.

  “I know it struck you, it’s no good telling me otherwise. I know what I saw – what I felt.”

  He put his hand on mine.

  “I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful – in lots of ways; I shouldn’t have let my guard down.”

  We walked to my apartment in silence. Matthew unlocked the door and stood aside to let me in. With clumsy fingers I started to unzip my coat, but it stuck halfway and I tugged it to get it to move. It remained stubbornly jammed and I yanked at it.

  “Blast this wretched thing!”

  I stamped my foot in frustration; I felt his breath on my neck.

  “Here, let me undo it for you.”

  The zip moved like silk under his fingers, and he slid my coat off my shoulders, his calm infuriatingly reasonable when I felt nothing but uncertainty and turmoil. Something shattered inside me.

  “And damn you!” I spat venomously. I could have stabbed him and hurt him less, as pain and rejection flashed across his face. He turned his back abruptly, his shoulders hunched. “No,” I wailed, “I’m sorry Matthew, I didn’t mean that.”

  His voice became ice; I had never heard him so cold, so distant.

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to make of you. You… lie to me; in fact, the only consistent thing about you is that you never tell me the truth.”

  He wheeled around to face me, his eyes flint.

  “Is that how you think of me – as a liar?”

  “No.” I sat down, my anger slipping into misery. “That’s part of the problem – that’s what I don’t understand; you have complete integrity, but you don’t tell me the truth. Everything about you is a contradiction.”

  We stared at each other, stranded in separate worlds of desolation, an insurmountable chasm between us.

  “What do you want to know?”

  I stood up again and this time I was ready for him, my heart thumping haphazardly.

  “I know I said that I would accept you without asking questions, but things are different now – things have changed. I want to know why you find it necessary to lie to me about things that shouldn’t matter. I want to know why you are so different from other people; and I want to know where I stand with you.”

  “I don’t mean – or want – to lie to you, Emma, it’s…”

  “Complicated. Yes, I know, you’ve said before. But that isn’t an explanation, and frankly I feel like a fool every time you lie to me. You are so full of secrets and you won’t let me in, so what am I to think? What’s so important that I can’t know about it? Or…” and an appalling thought struck me, “… or is it that I’m not important enough for you to tell me?”

  His face twisted into a bitter smile. “Not important? You – not important?” He stepped towards me, menacingly intense, and I stumbled back. “Everything I have done over these past weeks is because of you. Every lie, every half-truth has been because of you – to protect you, Emma, not to hurt you. How could I have been so stupid to think that I could hide anything from you!”

  He slammed his fist into the coffee table and it splintered, the air filling with the sound of shattered wood and broken dreams. Flowers, glass and water spread like pooled blood. I stared at the remains of the table and then at his handsome face, so at odds with the scalding anger in his eyes, and blinked.

  “What are you saying, Matthew? That you lied to protect me? From what, or… who?”

  He bowed his head, closing his eyes.

  “From me – from what I could do, or have failed to do.”

  My voice began to rise in an agony of frustration. “You’re talking in riddles again!”

  I kicked out at the remains of the table, fragments scattering across the polished floor, sliding under the sofa and knocking against the foot of the window-seat.

  Recrimination, not self-pity, haunted him.

  “From me, Emma, because I allowed you to be put in danger again and I can’t forgive myself that degree of stupidity.”

  “I don’t understand; you’ve saved me three times – how can that be so wrong?”

  He began pacing the room with short, violent movements.

  “Staahl got to you because I wasn’t watching – I should have prevented that, Emma, I should have stopped him.”

  “But you did…”

  “No – he shouldn’t have got that close. And then today… I should have anticipated the animal might be there.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s not your responsibility to watch over me…”

  “Oh, but it is,” he snarled.

  “Why?”

  “Because…” He faltered.

  “That’s not an answer, Matthew; you’ve got to do better than that.”

  He stopped pacing, canting his head to face me.

  “Because it’s what you’re supposed to do when you love someone.”

  My heart somersaulted and my jaw dropped. I snapped it shut, still staring at him. He loved me. He started pacing again.

  “Because I love you and should be able to protect you. And because I knew Staahl was a threat to you but still couldn’t prevent him from nearly killing you. Because being with me, puts you at risk. Because I want you more than this life and yet I can’t ask you to be with me without compromising your faith. And I can’t do that – I won’t do that.”

  Rising desperation flooded my voice.

  “You’re still not making any sense! Can’t you trust me enough to tell me? For goodness’ sake – you asked me to stay for Christmas! What was that all about?”

  He bent his head
. “I shouldn’t have asked you; it was wrong.” He raised it again, and the haunted, hunted look was back. “I can’t let you know my real nature without risking losing you, and I’m too selfish to let you go; yet accepting me places you in danger every moment we are together. I can’t… I won’t lose you, Emma; I don’t have the courage to face life without you.”

  I felt like screaming. “And I can’t go on in this state of limbo – it’s killing me!”

  His hollow laughter grated, devoid of all humour. We stared at each other.

  “Impasse?” I whispered.

  He agreed reluctantly. “It would appear so.”

  I sank back on the chair and examined the floor so that he wouldn’t see my tears; but he knelt amid the vestiges of the table and raised my chin so that he could look into my face, and his eyes were unfathomable depths into which I fell without hesitation. He brushed a tear with the back of his hand, then another with his lips. Then his mouth found mine, and all the agony of doubt that had held us apart evaporated as mist under the morning sun.

  Hope and need, and relentless, uncompromising love combined in each breathless kiss, the tips of my fingers fighting the shredded sheets of fabric that were all that remained of his coat and shirt, through to his supple, unyielding skin, where no mark, nor rip, nor tear broke the perfection of its surface. His lips found my jaw-edge, and softly at first, then with increasing intensity, the line of my neck, until he discovered the hollow at the base of my throat. I kissed his hair, pulling his scent in shallow breaths into my lungs as his mouth travelled across my collar-bone and down, his lips hard now, and bruising. I gasped.

  “Matthew… ow!”

  He sprang back as if I had electrocuted him, his eyes wild, his arm across his mouth, looking at me in abject horror.

  “What have I done?” he whispered.

  “What is it? Don’t stop – Matthew, please, what is it?”

  I struggled to stand up, but my ribs wouldn’t play ball. I tried again, closing my eyes against the sudden pain. When I opened them seconds later, he was gone.