Defiant Destiny

by Madison Cumbee

  “That’s good to hear,” William said, never blinking. “Because a coach can be very protective of his guard, especially since there is no substitute.”

  “I understand, Sir.”

  His expression softened, and he seemed to accept my silent pledge.

  The cryptic discussion between her father and me was not lost on Keira, but she played along for her mother’s sake- who did appear quite clueless. Clothing, not sports, seemed to be her forte. Keira gave her father a stern look. “While basketball is truly fascinating, I’m about to starve. Is the interrogation over yet?”

  Abigail shook her head as if to clear it and then spoke. “No, there’s one more thing to discuss. Uriel.” The woman’s blue eyes locked on to me with a very serious nature. “Are you ready to carry out all of the responsibilities the role of escort requires for the coming out ceremony that is being held for Keira soon?”

  I smiled at her comparably easy question. “I assure you, Ma’am, I am more than willing to accept the honor of being Keira’s escort and I will not let you or her down. I am more than capable of fulfilling the duties of the position. With a little more time, I even think I’ll be able to get Keira to enjoy her ceremony.”

  “If you can do that, then you’re a miracle worker.”

  “Ha,” Keira laughed sarcastically. “He can try.”

  Abigail concluded to her daughter, “We approve of your choice. You may go to lunch.”

  “Curt and candid. Thank you, Mother,” Keira grimaced. Looking at her father, her mood shifted to a disapproving one. “Thanks, Coach.” William shrugged. “Let’s get out of here before they change their minds,” Keira said and then safeguarded me from the room.

  “I’m still in love with you,” I whispered in her ear.

  “And that, of all the remarkable things about you, is the most surprising to me.” Once we were back in the entrance area, she let go of my hand, told me she’d be right back, and made her way up the stairs that began a few feet from where I stood. She disappeared around the corner once she reached the top.

  A minute or so passed and Maria, the maid, walked into my line of sight carrying a duster. The elderly woman spotted me as well, peered around, and motioned for me to come near her. I obliged. Maria’s usual motherly and warm face was hardened as she looked upon me. “Hello, Maria,” I greeted with a friendly smile.

  “Uriel,” she retorted.

  After several seconds of uncomfortable silence, I asked her, “Have I done something untoward?”

  The woman sucked in her cheeks, making her look even less amiable. “I’ll get right to the point. I do not like to see Keira hurt, and when she is, my husband and I become very skeptical of what or who caused her pain to begin with. Do you know how much Keira cares for you?”

  Ah. Retribution. “I have a pretty good idea how deeply her feelings run.”

  “Then you should know that she wasn’t very… she wasn’t herself after you’re little argument or whatever it was that happened recently.”

  “What happened was an extremely unfortunate misunderstanding that will never come about again. I never meant to hurt Keira in any way. Believe me, she was not the only person in pain while we were apart.”

  Maria’s righteous anger yielded a fraction.

  I went on, “If there is ever another separation between Keira and I, it will be of her choosing, not mine. Your girl’s heart will never be broken as long as I have any say in the matter.”

  “I’ll hold you to that, young man,” Maria threatened while pointing her Swiffer at me.

  “Uriel?” I heard Keira call.

  “With all due respect,” I assured Maria.

  I walked back to the entrance parlor, and Keira patted a jacket that must have been the object she had gone elsewhere for. “You ready?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s take my car,” she said as she opened the door and we stepped outside. “I haven’t driven it in forever.”

  “Alright.”

  Keira analyzed my expression. “Are you okay?”

  To be honest, her maid, with only a few words in a matter of seconds, had stirred up a portion of the guilt I had been trying to suppress for the last couple of weeks, but Keira and I didn’t need to be that honest. So I buried the emotion once more, recalled that the meeting had just been a success, and mustered up a genuine smile. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? I proved you wrong about your mother. She was very open to me.”

  “You had her eating out of the palm of your hand within seconds of walking in that room!” Keira exclaimed as she continued walking. “I didn’t believe it was possible. You knew exactly how to get into her good graces.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised- I’ve lived long enough to learn a few tricks.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Your father was more difficult,” I admitted.

  “Well,” Keira slipped her hand into the crook of my arm as we neared the secret door to the garage, “I think you handled his not-so-subtle symbolic warnings very well. But did you realize that he called you a player like five times?”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Yeah, well, mortals do that sometimes.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “When my father said that, I had trouble keeping a straight face.”

  “I don’t think he meant it the way your modernly jaded mind has imagined.”

  “Of course he didn’t. If he had, it wouldn’t have been funny; it’d have been embarrassing.”

  I laughed and opened the secret door. “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “I haven’t a clue. Is it Burger King because we’re definitely dressed for the fast-food scene?”

  “I’m in the mood for Chop House Grill. What do you think?”

  “Steak? Absolutely.”

  Keira descended into the driver’s seat of her Aston, and I closed her door. Between the time it took me to walk from one side of the car to the other, I had decided not to waste too much thought on Maria’s fretting because there was no cause for her worry now and because Keira and I had precious little time left before the guild’s guest would arrive. I wanted to enjoy the rest of the day with my girl.

  Once I was in, Keira turned the key in the ignition and started out onto the road. “Where is Chop House Grill again?”

  “Highway 68.”

  “Right.” She leaned forward to turn up the volume of the radio that is never powered off in her car. “My mother called you dapper.”

  “You sound slightly disgusted,” I said, amused.

  “My mother called you dapper,” she reiterated.

  “Is that word already out of circulation?”

  “My friends probably wouldn’t even know what it means.”

  “That’s sad. We should really work on extending their vocabulary.”

  “Yes, you and I will write our own Modern-to-Stuffy-’n’-Old English Dictionary.”

  I laughed. After listening to Keira sing along with a couple of songs, I glanced out the window. We were passing every car in sight. I checked Keira’s speed and casually reminded her, “The limit’s thirty-five through here.”

  “I know. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

  “Keira.”

  “What?” she asked innocently.

  “If a cop saw you going twenty-five over-”

  She cut me off, “I’d get a ticket. So what? You don’t drive an Aston Martin at thirty-five miles an hour; it’s an insult to the car… We’re almost on the highway anyway.”

  I dropped the subject, deciding to wait until after we had eaten. Once we arrived and Keira had parked, I stepped out of the car and appreciated the sun’s beams that were bathing the lot in their brilliant warmth. My mortal appeared less receptive to the heat by the way she was enrobing herself in the tawny jacket she had brought along even though we were parked maybe thirty steps from the restaurant’s doors and would be inside soon.

  She really did look grand in her befitting clothes with her
hair cascading down her back after she released it from her jacket’s collar. Keira had let her umber hair grow a few inches since we’d first met. While gazing at her, a sudden and forceful urge that I was powerless against came over me. I closed the distance between us in three quick strides, had a handful of that thick, soft hair within a second, and was pulling Keira into myself before she discerned that I was no longer on the other side of the car. She gasped quietly and I took advantage of her parted lips with my own.

  Keira sensed the torrent of passion I was experiencing and reciprocated it almost instantly. Her hands reached under my arms to grasp my upper back while my free hand traveled down to circle her waist and press her closer until we were one. I forgot to breathe in between kisses, but I couldn’t be bothered to remember something as trivial as respiring when I wasn’t able- or willing- to form coherent thoughts. My body moved for me, backing Keira into the side of her Aston. We fit perfectly together. When she pulled away to catch her breath, I had to seize the car’s roof for support- I might have fallen over from the light-headedness that threatened to surmount me. I had never felt anything like the dizziness and euphoria that kissing Keira had just caused.

  When I found my voice, I asked her, “Was that okay?” What if I had overstepped? I never wanted to rush her into anything she wasn’t ready for.

  It took her a little longer to gather her thoughts. Being with Keira definitely improved my patience; even though I was waiting on pens and needles, so to speak, for her reply, I remained silent and let her regain her bearings. Finally, she answered, “Yes, but only if you don’t apologize for it. As long as you don’t regret encounters like that, then I’d say that that was infinitely better than just okay.”

  I smiled my relief.

  I still hadn’t moved when Keira asked, “Is there something about parking lots that inexplicably turns you on or something?”

  “I think it has less to do with the place and more to do with the person.”

  “Mmm…”

  I took a deep breath to clear out the lingering mist in my mind and leaned back, releasing the car’s roof and standing on my own. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not so much for steak anymore. How about you?” Keira teased as she ran her fingers through her now tangled hair.

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  Keira’s lips, which were a darker shade because of our kisses, curved slowly up into a grin.

  “Like that,” I told her in a tight, restrained voice.

  We walked inside and were seated in a room to the left that had windows as one of its walls and a very large fireplace. The tables were set with tablecloths that were of a material other than plastic or paper, the drinking glasses had stems and were actually made of glass, and the utensils came in more than one size. Even our waiter wore a uniform that included a tie. I was reminded that not every restaurant had staff that would sing and clap in the event of a customer’s birthday- something that seemed to happen at least once every time I took Keira out for dinner.

  By the time our appetizer had been placed in front of us, Keira claimed she had more questions left over from Thursday night, and I told her to ask away because I owed her any information she wished for.

  She appeared more or less hesitant when she queried, “Why don’t you have an accent?”

  “I don’t have one in any language I speak. None of the guild does.”

  “But why?”

  “We’ve lived an extremely long time, moving from country to country. You eventually lose all pronunciation flaws once you’ve cohabited with others who speak the language long enough. Even mortals can speak without noticeable accents.”

  “That makes sense, I guess… Next question: did you ever meet a famous historical figure?”

  “We are some historical figures.”

  Keira’s eyes grew wider and sparked with interest. “Really?” Her tone was high with skepticism.

  “Yes… Have you ever heard of Homer?”

  “The poet who is credited for The Iliad and The Odyssey? We learned a little about him freshman year.”

  “I’m guessing you weren’t taught that, along with epic poems, he enjoyed indulging in wine, lots and lots of wine.”

  The corners of Keira’s mouth turned up for a moment. “No, we weren’t tested on the guy’s drinking habits.”

  “Well, this one night, all of us in the guild are collected around a fire out on the beach after a long voyage from what used to be Troy to Greece, and Homer, who is just beginning to be recognized as a talent, staggers over to us. He sits down without being invited to, but after watching how he has trouble not falling off the log he’s slumped on, we don’t give him much thought either way. Once he realizes we aren’t including him in our conversation, Homer starts going on and on about his astounding gift with words and he’s saying all these supercilious things at an annoyingly loud volume that unfortunately is the norm for men who are drunk- we can’t bear the noise. So- remember this is in our younger years- Odeda, Dagan, and I decide to have a little fun with the irritating and intoxicated poet.”

  “Nuh-uh,” Keira shook her head, the smile on her face struggling to stay minute.

  “Oh, but we did. The moment Homer takes a second’s pause in between his monologues, I ask Dagan, who was going by Geordi at that time, if he minds putting a little sand on the fire because I think it’s getting a little too big. He says that no, he doesn’t mind in the least, and, while Homer’s watching, Dagan uses his power to separate some sand, levitate it in the air just long enough for the mortal to know he isn’t imagining it, and drops the sand on the fire. The old man’s mouth lulls open as he attempts to form some of his astounding words and fails miserably. By now, the fire’s died down to nothing but embers. Naturally, we need more wood, and Odeda, or Herculina as we would call her for centuries afterward, gets up, walks into the nearby wooded area, comes back carrying a tree in one hand, and proceeds to break it apart with only her fingers.”

  “Herculina? You mean to tell me-”

  “Yes, ours truly was the inspiration for the mighty and manly Hercules.”

  “No!” Keira exclaimed, smiling openly.

  “Yep. Homer never knew what had come over him. By the time Odeda had the tree in small enough strips, the embers were cold. That is how, by the moon and starlight, the infamous poet witnessed me summoning flint to rekindle our campfire. After that the mortal fainted and by the time he regained consciousness, we were well on our way to Delphi to visit one of Azra’s close kin. Apparently, Homer mistook my gift for one of creating light and my surname he overheard was Apollo. We were his inspiration, and even though he got many details wrong, we were forced to lay low until all the hype about Greek gods died down before we could resume our missions. Odeda, Dagan, and I never did anything that unpremeditated again as a joke that could give our identities away.”

  Keira was laughing lightly as I finished. “What kind of details did he get wrong?”

  “For one, the poet made Odeda a man- I think he remembered her insulting him before he passed out- but also, Dagan’s name, Geordi, was changed to Gaia and he was transformed into a woman even though he didn’t offend Homer in any way that I can recall.”

  “That’s just Dagan’s luck,” Keira giggled. “Where were Azra and Zev during this historical night?”

  “They were sitting there with us. Before our fun, Azra had been describing our next mission, which is why we believe he was appointed Zeus in Homer’s epics, and Zev was in a foul mood because the crew we had sailed with to Greece had caught more fish than they had eaten and therefore wasted animal life during the voyage; ergo we determined he was dubbed Ares the god of war because of his tempestuous and combative disposition that was left over. Then again Poseidon is also possible.”

  Keira smiled and played with her food for a few minutes, and then she looked up at me. “Did that really happen?”

  “I swear the literature was born because of us and that night. You’d be surprised to know how
many legends and myths were formed out of mortals coming in contact with Nephilim.”

  She still seemed thoughtful. “Apollo, huh?”

  “Apparently.”

  The corner of her lip quirked. “That’s hot.”

  “Oh-ho, your pun’s hilarious.”

  “Thanks, I thought so.”

  Our main dish was brought out and I was yet to be disappointed in the restaurant, its staff, or its food. I’d have to remember to tell the rest of the guild about this place. “How’s your steak?” I asked Keira.

  “Only second to what I tasted in the parking lot,” she said before sliding another bite off her fork with her teeth.

  “It’s said that you learn something new every day; today, I’ve learned that my girlfriend prefers Nephilim over cow. How educational.”

  “I’d like to learn of any other historical legends you and your phenomenal family have influenced.”

  “Very well. Hmm… Do you know the tale of Robin Hood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Azra was Hood and Zev was Little John.”

  “There’s nothing little about Zev!”

  “No, there is not,” I agreed. “And the sheriff of Nottingham was Amir.”

  “Amir,” Keira repeated, her expression becoming somber.

  “We’ve defeated him several times in the past.”

  Keira didn’t say anything and she stopped eating her steak.

  After several minutes, I quietly asked, “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

  “How can I not?” Keira’s voice was broken. “She’s one of my best friends; we practically lived together for a month over the summer while we worked on the mountain, and I just let her go off with that evil incarnate.”

  “There was nothing you could do. Elly chose to side with Amir.” My words didn’t appear to be comforting Keira at all. I laid my hand on the table and she took it. “It can be extremely difficult for a Nephilim to choose good- especially when that Nephilim is being influenced by a Watcher.”

  “She is good; I know she’s still good,” Keira said firmly.

  I had my doubts about that, but I didn’t know the girl personally so maybe Keira was right. But, then again, Keira wasn’t an expert on Nephilim nature. “We are going to do everything we can when they resurface.”