Adva

by Daniela Jackson

  “She’s so nice and wise,” Heather twitters.

  “I don’t understand, sweetheart.”

  She holds my hand in hers—her fingers close around my thumb in fact. “I’ll show you.”

  An explosion of white light fills the cave. I curse under my breath as the light dissipates and I find myself in front of the gate to the past.

  “How did you do this?” My voice falters.

  “I just know how to do this. Come on, Dad. You have to see her.” She pulls me towards the gate formed by red smoke. It thins and blurs, turning into a kind of mirror.

  “No, Heather.”

  “I can do this, Dad.”

  “I said no.”

  “Dad, please. I want to show you my mom.”

  My curiosity fights against my rationality. I’ve never crossed the gate to the past. I didn’t realise Heather could do this.

  “Come on, Dad.”

  I must admit I’m excited as fuck. My skin prickles. Adrenaline fills my veins.

  I nod. “Alright, ten minutes, that’s all. Stay close.”

  We move towards the gate and step into it. I feel at peace. I feel like I’m united with the whole universe. Then the smell of seaweed settles in my nostrils. I realise my eyes are shut. I open them and the sun’s rays blind me. My vision clears. The rich blue expanse of the sky feels like it will swallow me. Sweat beads my forehead.

  “Dad,” Heather whispers and squats down.

  We are behind a palm tree. Heather points her finger to the distance. My eyes roam over the turquoise sea waves then fix on her.

  She’s a mermaid that’s emerging from the sea for the first time ever. My angel senses her youth and curiosity. Her curly black hair covers her large breasts as a belt made of shells obscures her bottom. Her beauty almost knocks me off my feet.

  “I told you, Dad,” Heather whispers. “Her name is Adva.”

  “Adva.” I taste her name on my tongue.

  It’s as beautiful as Heather.

  It’s like I die and I am reborn the next moment. I pull forward, but Heather clings to my arm, stopping me.

  “We can’t,” she squeaks.

  “What?”

  “The timeline. We can’t or something bad will happen.”

  I see another mermaid on the sand beach that stretches in front of us. She passes a linen dress to Adva who pulls it on. They hold hands and walk forward to explore the human world.

  “I will only say my hello to her,” I say as my mind clouds with euphoria.

  I tear my hand away from Heather’s and stride towards the mermaids, obstructing their way. They shiver from fear at the sight of me.

  “Adva,” I say.

  Adva’s cobalt eyes fill up with tears. Her long black eyelashes flutter. Moisture marks her cheeks with pearly streams. I want to wipe those tears away from her face. I want to kiss her, bury her in my arms and take her with me. Keep her for eternity.

  “Be careful in the human world,” I say.

  She bobs her head at me and we freeze, staring at each other.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I say at last.

  Adva’s lips part as her hands flap. “Sir, with all due respect, you must be drunk.”

  Her mermaid companion nudges her chest with her elbow as I erupt into laughter.

  “I’m drunk with you,” I rasp.

  Adva chuckles and sways like she’s dancing, twining her fingers with her hair. “I’m just a little mermaid.”

  “And I’m a big angel at your mercy, sweetheart.”

  “Sir, you’re really drunk,” she says in a low seductive voice.

  “And you’re flirting with me, you little mermaid,” I say.

  Fear widens her eyes and she shakes her head like she wants to shake a haze off.

  I feel Heather’s tiny form clinging to my back. I look over my shoulder. My daughter raises her hand and makes a gesture as though she’s taking something out of Adva’s head. White light envelops me and I find myself by the gate to the past.

  “You don’t listen to me,” Heather growls. “You never listen to me. I had to wipe this memory away from her mind.”

  “It seems like you’re a better guardian than me.”

  “She won’t be my mom, if you do something like this again.”

  Guilt pricks my heart. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  Heather sniffles. “I wanted to take her with us, but this cold scary thing squeezed my heart and forbade me from doing so.”

  “I know.”

  She’s part archangel. Her inner guardian is very strong. Mine has almost ceased to exist—the benefit of being a renegade.

  —Another memory enters my head—We’re in a barn perched on the cliff. Heather is thirteen and she’s asleep, buried in the pile of straw.

  I walk out and light a cigarette, inhaling the smoke. I’m not a heavy smoker, but I always have a pack of cigarettes in the back pocket of my jeans.

  An explosion of white light blinds me. As the light dissipates, I see a woman in front of me. She looks about twenty years old. Her face is familiar to me, so familiar that dread surges through me.

  “Calm down, old man,” she says.

  “Heather?” My jaw drops, and I crush my cigarette under my boot. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight.” Her face shines pale blue in the moonlight.

  My eyes sweep over her and fix on her pregnant belly. “You’re fucking pregnant, young lady.”

  “I am, old man.” She steps forward and kisses me on the cheek. “My gift for you for all these years you’ve kept me safe.” She spreads her wings and they shimmer like snow on a sunny winter day.

  Her light blinds me.

  Chapter 3

  Conah

  The gate to the past flashes in front of me and I’m shoved into it with a tiny female hand. Then I find myself in a ballroom behind two pillars that form a dark cold niche.

  “Wipe her memory,” Heather whispers into my ear and shoves me forward. “After you dance with her. She loves dancing.” She shoves me forward with more strength.

  I pull forward like I’m a marionette, and I blend with humans. They’re talking, laughing, sweating. Music is playing and I recognise it as waltz. The rich colours of the décor bombard my eyes—the golden frames of mirrors, the burgundy walls with black flowers, the green mosaic of the floor, and five red sofas. My inner angel tells me the date—18th Oct 1873.

  Silver candelabra hold a few hundred candles and their flickers give the interior a misty yellow aura scented with the musk of wax. I smell baked apples, raisins, ale.

  Then I see Adva. She’s wearing a white Victorian dress. A few white feathers adorn her hair and the beaded corset accentuates her slender waist. She pinches the draped hem of her dress and sways, her eyes closed—a white rose drifting on the surface of the dark sea. Men shoot her lustful glances, which pisses me off. Nobody’s allowed to look at her, nobody except me and Heather. I almost run to her as the people jump away around me, shooting me consternated glances. I stop in front of Adva and hold her hand in mine. She shudders as her eyes meet mine.

  “Dance with me,” I demand.

  She jerks her body back, but I yank her to me. I shake my head. She chews her lower lip and drops a curtsy so I lead her towards the dance floor. I allow myself to have this one dance, to have her body pressed against mine, to inhale her tantalising smell.

  “Sir,” Adva says. “You’re dressed like you’re a peasant. They don’t invite peasants over.” Sarcasm and fear mix in her voice.

  “You, on the other hand, you look like a queen.” I plant a kiss on her forehead and she shivers.

  “I am a queen.” She blinks a few times.

  “I know, darling.” I run my thumb down her cheek.

  She looks at me like we’re equal. We stop. Time stops. I bend my neck and brush her soft moist lips with mine. She yelps into my mouth.

  “You can’t,” she gasps.

  “I can. You’re the love of my life, after all
.”

  Our glances collide and we become as one for a second of eternity—one breath, one heartbeat, one agony. Her skin shimmers with sea green.

  “You’re not allowed to lie, sir.”

  I take her hand and press it against my chest. “Feel me.”

  Adva winces, pearly tears trickling down her cheeks then she clings to me, trembling, gasping, and I allow myself to hold her in my embrace.

  We twirl around the dance floor, a blur separating us from the whole world, the humans’ voices like echoes from the distance. Then I drag her out of the ballroom, down the wide stairs covered with a red carpet, and outside the building. A narrow path leads me to a garden. A cloud of vapour leaves my mouth as I spot a bridge thrown over a stream and a round building—pillars support a tiled roof. Four torches burn around it. I yank Adva inside and grasp her waist. Dark lust surges through my veins. I’m elemental and unstoppable. My mouth slams on hers. I’m an animal driven by one need—to have her all.

  “You can’t,” Adva gasps as she sinks her fingers into my hair.

  “I can. You can. You want it as badly as I do. Admit it.”

  She inhales deeply. “I want you.” She shakes her head. “Is this a dream?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I don’t want to wake up then.”

  “Neither do I.”

  We gaze at each other.

  We inhale each other.

  No words are spoken, but we nod in a silent agreement. I gather her dress up and set her on the windowsill. Her back rests against the stained glass. We kiss desperately. Her torment and need touch me in the impatience of her hands moving up and down my back, in her ragged breath, in her tears.

  “Who are you?” she asks.

  “I’m your husband and you’re my wife,” I rasp.

  I open my trousers and drive my hard cock into her cunt. She cries out, her body taut with pain. Her cunt clamps around my cock, and I almost cum.

  “I’m sorry,” I rasp.

  “No, this is for you,” she murmurs as pain coats her voice. “My first kiss. My first… everything. I want to give it to you.”

  I should be gentle, but I can’t. I lift her thigh and wrap it around my waist. I grip the back of her neck. My mouth closes hers. I take her selfishly and she gives me herself willingly. My hand clutches her hip, and I fuck my whole yearning for her into her. My anger. My helplessness. We kiss with passion, with hunger, with pain.

  I cum hard.

  I pull out of her, my mind spinning. I put my dick covered in her virginal blood back into my pants.

  “Fuck,” Heather’s voice causes me to turn around. “You’re fucked up. Where’s your brain, old man. I told you to dance with her not... Fuck. You’re like a brainless teen.” She shoves my arm, her anger pricking my skin. “Wipe her memory.” She puts her hand on Adva’s tummy. “Good, she’s not pregnant. You can’t be the father. Wipe her memory.” She slaps my arm. “Now.”

  Adva grabs her head in both her hands, humming like she’s insane. It breaks my heart.

  I know this is serious so I remove our encounter from Adva’s memory and Heather takes me back to the barn.

  “I want to take her with me,” I growl.

  “It needs more time,” Heather says.

  “More time? You’d better start talking to me.”

  “More time, Dad. I can’t tell you more.”

  “What’s going on, Heather? You’d better tell me right now, young lady.”

  “The war is coming, Dad, the war with archangels. I’m learning and learning, but I can’t piece it together.” She hugs me and takes my memories away from me. I remember only the moment I kissed Adva in the ballroom when we were dancing. “I have to go.”

  “Where are you going?” I grip her arm.

  “To our home.” She strokes my arm. “You’ll be very happy one day. Trust me.”

  “I am very fucking happy. You and I are a team.”

  Heather chuckles. “Watch over yourself, old man.”

  “You too.”

  She disappears and soon I take my daughter and we start searching for someone like us. This is not an easy task. Using the gates to the past requires focus and there’s always the threat puffing onto the back of our neck that the archangels will catch us.

  —My Heather is almost seventeen, but older Heather visits us on a summer night while we’re camping in the woods. Her face is splashed with blood and she’s wearing the kind of combat uniform. My Heather squeaks with joy.

  “You’ll find them at the gate to the past,” the older Heather says. “It’s the right time to join them. Just don’t scare them too much. You have to go back in time, exactly eighty-one hours, fifteen minutes and two seconds. Kai and Ettrian—your niece and her husband.”

  “We saw them once,” my Heather squeaks. “He bought her a necklace. He wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t. He was scared that Kai wouldn’t want such an old elf as him.”

  The older Heather erupts into laughter. “You’re such a child.”

  My Heather clings to me, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

  “Are you alright?” I ask. “There’s blood on your face—“

  “Go now,” the older Heather says and vanishes.

  I stroke my Heather’s head. “So, are we going or not?”

  She nods. “We’ll be happy at last, Dad. You, me, and our beautiful, wise Adva.”

  “Yes,” I murmur.

  “Maybe I’ll have a brother or sister.”

  “You want to have a sibling?”

  Heather squeaks like a small child. “A brother and a sister.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Uneasiness sits on my chest. What if it’s just a mirage? What if our dreams can’t come true?

  “She’ll love you as much as I love you, old man. No need to be nervous.”

  I raise my finger. “I’m the father. You’re the kid. Not the other way round.”

  —Kadmiel shakes me out of my reverie, patting my shoulder. “Beer?”

  My eyes sweep over the bar and the boys. They look at me like I’m some lunatic.

  Micah laughs. “Drink some beer. It will do you good.”

  Adva

  I wake up and sense someone’s fragile presence beside me. I roll on my side and my glance meets Heather’s.

  “How are you, Mom?” she asks.

  She’s lying on the bed beside me. Her hand travels to my head and she strokes me.

  Anger boils inside of me, because I know I have to be strong for her. I want to sink into my pain and die, but I promised something to Heather. It hits me hard. It stabs me. It prevents me from turning into a human more than Conah’s order.

  “Why are you angry, Mom?”

  I pull her to me and shake off my anger. “I’m tired, sweetie, that’s all.”

  She sighs with relief. “Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  “But I’ve brought you some apples and pears. I peeled them and cut them into pieces for you.”

  “Sure, I’ll eat them now. I should eat, right?”

  I sit up and Heather sits opposite me, reaching for a bowl that’s placed on the bedside table.

  I eat a piece of pear as she watches me like I’m some dangerous criminal.

  “Don’t try to kill yourself again,” she says with reproach.

  “I won’t, sweetie, I promise.”

  She flashes me a smile and offers me an apple. I eat it even though nausea twists my stomach and every bit sticks in my throat.

  The door creaks open and Conah walks in. He moves towards the bed and perches on the mattress.

  “She’s just eaten some fruit,” Heather says.

  “Good,” he nods. “Go to bed, Heather.”

  She kisses my cheek and flops from the bed. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” I rasp.

  Heather leaves the bedroom and Conah strokes my cheek with the back of his knuckles.

  “I can prepare a bath for you,” he says.

  I nod and
my mind numbs. I’m weightless and bodiless. I’m all nothingness. Conah says something to me, but it’s a blur that irritates my brain. I shake my head and suddenly find myself on his lap, in his embrace. He showers my head with kisses.

  “It’ll be alright,” he says, his voice coated with softness.

  “What if your daughter died?” All my anger and pain centre on this sentence.

  He tightens his embrace around me. “I’m so sorry, Adva.”

  “She was my baby.” My voice breaks like someone has yanked a thin thread off.

  “I know.”

  “I was supposed to be with her.”

  “No, you should be with Heather and me.” He strokes my back as his mouth lands on the top of my head. “Let me help you.”

  “Nobody can help me.” I’m all bitterness. “Nobody.”

  Pain floods me, suffocates me and kills me. Yet I’m alive. Aware that I’ll be mourning my daughter for eternity.

  I can’t.

  I just can’t.

  Memories flash through my head—my father was a merman, a king. My mother was a snow nymph. She died when she gave birth to me. My father’s heart died with her and he turned into sea foam when I was twenty. I witnessed him commit suicide.

  I had to sit on the emerald throne and rule over the mer kingdom.

  I had to kill two mermen who wanted to strip me of my heritage. I’d poisoned them in cold blood.

  Then I remember that day when Rive was killed by a demon. I sensed her death at once like my throat had been slit not hers. I emerged from the sea to feel her in a breeze, to turn into foam and be with her, but Micah told me to go back to my kingdom and rule over it. I had to obey him.

  Kadmiel’s pain of loss burned into my memory. On that day, I loved him like he was my son by blood.

  My two human fiancés’ faces flash through my head. They’re dead. I never tasted their intimate touch, but I tasted their sweet words and human love.

  Death has accompanied me my whole life. I should be dead too.

  Conah

  She feels like a piece of ice. Her skin is cold to touch, white and shimmery like snow. Her lips are white. Her eyes darken and fill with a navy void similar to that of demons’ eyes.

  I carry her bridal style to the bathroom and plant her on the floor in the corner by the washbasin. She sways like an orphan as I fill the bathtub with hot water. I help her remove her dress and underwear and lay her in the bathtub. Steam rises in lacy clouds and sweat pricks my forehead, but Adva is still cold and white. Uneasiness sits on my chest.