by Rue Volley
“I’ll be going to bed soon.”
He glanced at the silver watch on his wrist, and it reminded me of the one my dad wore all the time. The thing always ran a few minutes behind causing him to be late to everything. I found it charming; my mom found it annoying. I could understand both sides.
The silence was deafening, so I stood up and took a step forward.
“I’m totally cool with you being here, I really am.”
He cleared his throat. “I appreciate that, Echo, I do, but you’re a student, and this is highly inappropriate.”
“How so?” I asked.
He paused, shifting from one foot to the other and running his hand through his hair. I noticed the ring on his left finger, and my chest felt heavy. He wasn’t wearing it earlier in the day.
He couldn’t be married, could he? No way.
He lowered it, and my eyes remained locked on the ring. He tucked his hand deep into his pants pocket and parted his lips. I felt like he was either on the verge of a confession, or he was about to say his goodbyes. Either way, I was listening.
My aunt returned, and he gladly welcomed her presence. I wasn’t so sure of who he was now, but I had no intention of ignoring it. My aunt touched his arm, and he leaned toward her but then they both looked at me, and the temptation to kiss was abandoned. I turned away, trying to allow them some privacy but all I heard was a good night from each of them, and then Mr. Jenny said goodnight to me. I half waved and didn’t say a word.
I took a seat and stared into the fire. My aunt returned with two cups and sat one down next to me while she took a seat in her chair and held the other one in her hands. She hadn’t skimped on the whiskey in hers. I could smell it in the air.
“So.” She tried to start, and I broke in without much grace. “He has a ring on his finger.”
She slowly set her cup aside and let out a long sigh. It didn’t give me much hope for what was to come after that. She fluffed her hair and then her eyes locked onto mine.
“Yes, technically, he is married.”
I leaned forward. “What?” My voice rose, I usually don’t get emotional about many things, but this thing was something that had touched my life before when my parents had gone through a short period of confusion.
A bad spot in their marriage.
My dad was seeing another woman, a woman we met on a dig…younger, by ten years, and my mom was dating a professor from Stanford. I wanted to die then, and so did Midnight. We were eleven and thought the world was ending. Luckily they regained their sanity and our family was reunited, but not without damage done. The frightening possibility of divorce still lingered with me. I hated the thought of it, and honestly, I couldn’t handle it. Midnight would have survived, but I would have crumbled. I just know it.
She interrupted my painful concentration on the past. “Echo, it isn’t what you think.”
I leaned back and grabbed my cup, taking a swig of it. I lowered it and spoke with a venomous tone. “I could use some whiskey.” She eyed me and tried to hide her amusement. “That you will not get.”
“So, what should I think?” I asked. I know I sounded hateful because this was one thing I hated more than anything. Disloyalty was as bad as murder in my book.
The two deal breakers.
My parents should consider themselves lucky that Midnight and I stayed. We could have run away never to be seen or heard of again. The lump rose in my throat, and I coughed. My aunt stood up and grabbed my arms, lifting them above my head. My eyes watered and then I jerked my hands away from her, forcing her to let me go. “I’m not five anymore, Aunt Luna.”
She sighed and took a seat across from me. Her eyes held so much sadness.
“No, you aren’t. You’re a beautiful young lady growing into her own.”
“Flattery is cheap,” I mumbled under my breath. She ignored it and decided to cut right to the chase. “His wife is catatonic. She has been for over a decade. They were in a terrible accident. She never recovered.”
I pressed my thumb into the center of my hand and applied some pressure. “What happened?”
She leaned back in the chair and took another sip of her hot toddy. I’m sure the whiskey was helping her relax. I could see it on her face and hear it in her voice.
“James and Carrie, that’s her name, Carrie, anyway, they were driving home from a restaurant, and something ran in front of their car. James swerved, and the car flipped into the forest, tumbling a few times until finally it hit a tree and left them both for dead.”
The flash of memory consumed my mind.
I could see it all. Two smiling faces, James holding the wheel and then a black shadow with red eyes rushing across the road. His fingers turned white, and I could see the look of terror on his face. The car flipped over and over again; everything went into slow motion. I could see bloody shards of glass floating in the air between them, the sad look on his face as Carrie’s hand reached out toward him, the moonlight racing across the silver wedding band on her bloodied left hand right before her head slammed against the side window and her eyes closed. He screamed and everything faded to black.
I had to shake off the vision.
My eyes widened, and I tried to regain my composure. “Something?”
She looked at me. “It’s speculated that it was a deer, a large buck, but James swears it had black fur and large red eyes.
I sucked in my breath. “Black fur and red eyes?” I asked with trepidation. She nodded to me after taking a sip from her cup. She swallowed and brushed her bangs aside. “Yes, a black buck said to be ridden by the God of Death, its Celtic folklore, of course, and James was injured in the crash, affecting his memory. I believe he was projecting his trauma into scary stories we all heard as children. It was used to keep us out of the thick pine forest. The God of Death, how theatrical.”
“The God of Death?” I asked. It sounded horrible.
“Yes…like I said, scary stories and nothing more. Some people here believe that he rides in the forest to this day collecting souls on his black buck.”
“So it’s a man?”
She paused. “The God of Death is a demon. He lives on blood and souls, a vampire.”
I swallowed hard and tried to move past it. “That’s terrible, I mean, what happened to Mr. Jenny and his wife. Did they find it? The animal, I mean.” I paused. I now knew what he meant when he spoke to me earlier in his office about how we all grieve in different ways. He understood loss, probably even better than I did because unlike me, he has to see his wife hooked up to machines, knowing that she’s gone.
“No, it was a deer or a wolf, injured, I’m sure. We have both in the woods that surround Port Royal. Speaking of which, don’t ever wander into it, it isn’t safe. The mist rises and a terrible fog can confuse you. Many a hiker has been lost and luckily found, but not everyone has been so lucky.”
“People died out there?”
“Some, two in my lifetime and then there was this terrible accident with Carrie and James, but some things are worse than death.” Her words struck me. I was speechless. Finally, I spoke. “So sad.”
She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “The story of the black buck and the God of Death is in the library, and yes it’s morose. She’s alive, of course, if you call being hooked up to machines alive. She will never be what she was. So you see, James is a good man. He isn’t doing anything wrong, and neither am I. It took us months to admit how we felt about each other, in all honesty, it took us years.” She sighed. “James and I went to school together. I knew him very well, and I knew Carrie.” She paused and then fingered at the rim of her coffee cup, tracing it in a circular motion. She stopped. “She was a close friend since childhood, so I feel her loss too, but I know, in my heart, that she wouldn’t want us to live alone, unhappy, and ignoring how we feel for each other. I know this as well as I know that I lov
e him. I hope you can understand.”
Her words floated into the air.
Love. I know love. I love Midnight; I love my parents, and I may be falling in love with Thorn. I don’t know how else I can explain how I feel when he’s near me. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever known. I had read about love at first sight and often laughed about it. But now it wasn’t so funny.
“Anyway, Echo. I just want you to know that the ring is just a symbol of his loyalty to her. If the accident hadn’t happened, then I’m sure he would still be with her, and that’s my burden to bear, not his. But I can’t deny my feelings for him. We don’t choose who we love, it isn’t a choice, honey. It’s fate that brought us together, and regardless of the circumstances, it doesn’t make us bad or evil. I believe that wholeheartedly.”
She took another drink of her hot toddy, and I picked up my tea and rose from the chair.
“I think I’m going to bed, okay?”
She nodded to me and then stood up, setting her cup aside and turned to give me a hug. She held on for a while longer than expected, but I hugged her back. I didn’t want her to think that I didn’t understand, I do. She loves him, and he loves her. He’s bound to Carrie, and because of that, they live with it anchoring them to one spot. I didn’t know if I should be happy for them or sad. Either way, at least they had each other.
She stepped back and kissed me on the forehead. I balanced my tea and made sure it didn’t spill on the wood floor. The fireplace crackled and moaned sending large sparks up into the air above the pile of charred wood. I studied the flames until she spoke to me and broke the spell.
“I’m so happy that you’ve come to stay here with me, Echo. I do love you more than words can express. Know this.” Her voice was gentle and sincere.
I grinned. “I love you, too, Aunt Luna.”
“Okay, off to bed you go. Maybe tomorrow we can talk about your first day at school.”
I made my way to the doorway and paused. “It was uneventful,” I said as I turned to face her. I added a smile and a nod. “I have an essay due on Friday. I should work on that and get it out of the way.”
“Oh, Echo?”
I turned back, and she winked at me. “The showers fixed now.”
I tapped the doorway and fingered at the wood. “Oh, that’s great. Good, yeah.”
I slipped away before she could say anything more.
11
I lay in bed, but I couldn’t sleep. My attempt at writing my essay was a massive failure, but it didn’t surprise me. My mind wandered.
Finally, I sat up and turned to face my door. I slid from my bed and crept across the floor, trying to avoid the creaking spots of wood, but my feet found every one of them until I gave up and abandoned trying to imitate a ninja.
I made my way down the hallway and approached the staircase. I gripped the railing and started to ascend, knowing that I could no longer contain my curiosity.
I stepped up to a large door with elaborate designs carved into the black wood. I reached out and touched the face of one small cherub and then my fingers slid along the wing. I paused at the tip and eyed the silver handle. I remember this library from when I was five. One of few memories I had retained from staying here with her that one rainy summer.
This was a magical place that my Aunt Luna used to bring us to, snuggling up in the overstuffed gray chair in the corner of the room that allowed both of us to sit at her sides. We were nestled in and listened to her as she read from many a book, taking us on adventure after adventure in the safety of her arms.
She read a story to us each night before bed, and it was one of the reasons that I love books so much to this day. This library birthed my passion for the written word, so naturally, I have to treat it with the utmost respect for molding me into the person I am today.
I took a breath and turned the handle, opening the door and allowing the sweet smell of old books to waft over me. I closed my eyes and let the scent linger, taking my mind back to those days when I was a child and nothing weighed on my heart or mind. An easier time. Innocent and without care.
I opened my eyes and scanned the room. Every wall was lined with rows of books that went from floor to high ceiling. Each section had a leaning ladder attached to it on a thick iron bar with wheels to glide along as a reader searched for their next adventure. A large rectangular table sat in the middle of the room with four chairs on each side of it. The table’s legs were constructed of thick wood, stained black and carved to match the door. Gleeful cherubs held this behemoth up on all four corners. Two for each leg, gripping harps in their chubby fingers and grinning mischievously. I remember sitting on the floor and tracing their mouths with my small fingers. I glanced down at the floor and remembered the rug, checkered black and white.
The misty apparition of two little girls raced past me, giggling, chasing each other around the table and disappearing underneath it as a ghostly figure of my aunt came rushing in, laughing and pretending that she couldn’t find us. She left the room and the girls crawled out from underneath the table and rushed to the large window that curved outward. A cushioned bench rested beneath it in a half circle. One child willfully dragged herself up onto the cushion and then paused, reaching back and helping the other.
They both leaned forward and placed their small hands on the glass as I approached them from behind. They dissipated into mist, and their little handprints remained on the glass. I pressed my open palms against the glass, and it fogged up around my fingers. I removed them, and only my handprints remained.
Memories of me and Midnight. Treasures beyond understanding.
I turned back and wiped a warm tear from my cheek and then decided to check out the books. This place was an oasis for me, an escape as books allow it to be. Taking me away to magical places and letting my mind rest from all worry and sorrow.
I strolled along the wall, letting my extended fingers touch the spines. My body hummed with anticipation. Books do this for me; I find that they excite me more than anything else in this world.
Well, almost anything.
I paused and tilted my head, reaching up and pulling a thick book from the shelf. I leaned in and read the spine.
“Viking folklore and the God of Death.”
I mouthed the words ‘The God of Death.’
I pulled the book from the shelf and made my way to the window. I sat down on the cushion and opened it up, gently running my hand over the old paper. I smiled, taking in a deep breath and smelling the history that was hidden inside of it.
I rifled through it until I landed on the chapter that intrigued me. I began to read and take it all in, trying to understand where this myth came from, the same one that James thought he had experienced and subsequently caused the accident that rendered his wife catatonic.
I leaned back and pulled my knees up, resting the book against them and began to read…
Odin was known as the God of Death. He was later incorporated into Christian doctrine during the Roman occupation. Odin was associated directly with the Christian devil, who, among other things, was known as The Black Veil or simply, The Veil.
I paused and stared at the words on the paper. My eyes narrowed. The Black Veil or The Veil was something I knew all too well.
Given that human sacrifices were made to Odin up until the 10th century A.D, associating Odin with Satan was not difficult.
This eventually morphed into tales of the Wild Huntsman. This shadowy figure, who is often described as having antlers branching from his head and glowing red eyes, rides through the dark forests at night on a black buck. He is accompanied by a pack of hell hounds, hunting the souls of men.
I shut the book and stared out the window. The black buck intrigued me, as well as the God of Death and the hell hounds, but The Veil lay heavy on my heart. I let my eyes wander until they landed on the thick forest that sat in the distance.
I shook my head and stood up, walking the book back to the shelf and placing it right back where I had found it. I paused, noticing a gap to the right of it, and then I remembered the book in Mr. Jenny’s hand. Was he still searching for answers? If so, I could only hope that he would find them.
I returned to my room and pulled out my notepad. I bit the tip of my pen and then started to write about energy in the most scientific way. When I finished, I gladly closed it and tossed it aside while tapping my pen against my leg. I knew that it would suffice, but it was devoid of passion. I would have much rather jotted down the details of that kiss that sparked everything inside of me, but I wouldn’t dare.
It was foolish of me to be this enthralled with a boy so quickly. I knew it as well as I knew that the God of Death and his black buck with glowing red eyes wasn’t scouring the thick pine surrounding Port Royal in search of souls.
But then again…
I stood up and walked to my window, gently placing my hand on the glass. I squinted my eyes and then something amazing happened, the clouds parted and the moon exposed herself to me for the first time it what felt like ages. I sat down and traced it with my fingertips. I bit my lip as she mesmerized me only blinking when I thought I heard the faint echo of a horn off in the distance and my eyes lowered to the thick pine.
“The Veil,” I whispered before leaning back against the side wall and ushering in another night of cryptic dreams about sharp fangs and a boy who sank into the darkness under the light of a full moon.
12
A day turned into a week and soon it was Friday with no signs of Thorn Vega.
I spent my days trying to settle in, studying, and accepting my new environment. I read as much as I could about the folklore of the black buck, the God of Death and everything else connected to it, but by all accounts, it was only stories passed down from generation to generation with nothing substantiated anywhere in the world. I couldn’t find anything else on The Black Veil, despite digging as curiously as my parents had. Bri and Tailor kept their distance, but I often caught them staring at me from across the room, hallway or while walking home. It was almost as if they had been directed to leave me alone, but I knew that was a ridiculous assumption. No one had the power to do that, not here, not anywhere.
