by Abra Ebner
“I’ll keep you posted,” he repeated, turning away from us as he left the room.
I shook my head. “He’s stubborn.”
Jake snorted. “You think? No wonder Jane loved him so much. She was stubborn, too. At least for as much as I knew her.”
I grumbled.
Jake snorted again. “Why do you even care anymore? Here you’re telling me to stay away from Emily when clearly you still pine over Jane, at least a little.”
“No,” I denied. “I don’t. She’s been my friend for a long time. It’s more of a protective instinct—a brotherly instinct.”
Jake’s smirk didn’t fade. “I don’t think considering Jane as a sister is smart given your intimate past. Kinda disturbing, really.”
“Shut up, Jake.” I pushed away from the wall as I saw the old ladies leave Emily’s side, giving me the excuse to re-join her. I could handle Jake in small bouts, but that was it.
I walked across the room and touched Emily’s elbow, her back to me. She startled, turning fast, only to smile when she saw my face. It was moments like this that made me feel secure in our relationship. I leaned forward and kissed her brow, her hands grasping my shirt in a way that told me she needed me, needed my support. I liked being needed. Jane had never needed me; she was too independent and self-assured. Jane had never had a doubt—at least she’d never share it if she did.
“I feel bad for Max.” Emily looked in the direction he had gone. “I know he hides a lot, but every now and then I get a glimpse of his mind when he thinks no one is looking.”
Here she was, feeling sorry for Max when it was her sister that was gone. I couldn’t believe her compassion.
“He really is an angel, Wes.” She looked me in the eye. “It’s amazing some of the things I see. I wish you could see it too. It gives me a little peace when it comes to Jane, knowing wherever she is is beautiful.”
“You’ve seen her in his mind?”
She nodded big. “When he lets me. I think he does it on purpose. It’s not like he comes to me and says, ‘hey, check this out.’ But somehow he’s always opening his thoughts just when I need it. I know you still loved Jane in your own way, Wes, but Max and Jane were the real thing.”
I wanted to ask her if she thought we were the real thing, but I refrained. I guess I didn’t want to see her reaction or sense any hint of possible doubt, should there be any. I wasn’t prepared to face what I feared was the truth anyway—we weren’t meant to last.
Another group of neighbors approached us, both human and both looking quite distraught. I stood by for support, but my mind still wandered. If Emily and I weren’t meant to last, then who was truly meant for me? It was a dark thought as my love for Emily was still ripe, but a thought I had to think in order to protect myself. My heart had been bitterly damaged by Jane’s rejection and it taught me to never get too comfortable, but—I wanted to be comfortable. I wanted easy. I wanted true love.
STELLA:
I stepped into the shower, quickly washing my earthly body. This body was attached to me, that was for sure, but it still didn’t feel like mine. I washed my hair with the only bottle of soap there was. Suds ran down my face and I rinsed them away. I stood under the stream for a while and dug the dirt out from under my nails. My thoughts ran. I’d observed enough about the culture I was about to enter to know what it meant to fit in, but I didn’t know everything. Being unable to talk was going to pose a problem, but hopefully I would be able to learn as I went along. I’d tried on my own but it hadn’t been easy. I couldn’t make my soft, human mouth form correctly. The only sentence I was able to say was, ‘who am I?’
That wasn’t going to get me very far.
Done washing, I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Steam rose from my body as I reached for the fresh towel I had found in the hunter’s closet, now resting on the counter. It smelled of pine and damp forest, a smell much more familiar to me than the human smell left on most of the objects in this cabin.
I had less than an hour before the hunter returned, give or take depending on how the hunt went. The hunter was relatively skilled as far as human skill took him, but still much slower than me. With the arrival of winter, however, I myself had seen the dwindling animal population in the woods. I was hoping he would be later than normal as a result.
I roughly dried my hair and ran a comb through it, placing each object back exactly where I’d found it. The hunter was very neat, very calculated. Each object was clean, and each object had its place. I’d learned what each object was used for by observing the hunter through the windows, learning what it was called by listening to him talk to himself despite the muffling of the glass between us. Some things I instinctively knew already, like some part of this human body remembered it from a previous life.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My long, dark hair began to curl as it dried. My face was pale and thin, my expression plain and sad. I bit my lips, trying to bring out some color. There were a few freckles kissing each of my cheeks. I pinched them too, hoping to add color there. My eyes were the only thing that felt like me, a bright amber, wildly speckled with brown and gold. That was the owl I knew, but the rest of me was the human I needed to get to know.
Leaving the bathroom, I rummaged through the hunter’s closet in search of some human clothes. There was a red and black flannel shirt, and searching through his collection of pants, I settled for a pair of long johns that fit me in a more feminine way. Diving in one last time, I stole a pair of his hunting boots from the back. They were an old pair I was certain he wouldn’t even notice were gone. I pulled a tall set of wool socks on over the leggings, rolling them up and below my knees before slipping them into the boots. The thick wool made the boots fit a little better. Luckily, the hunter didn’t have very big feet.
Satisfied, I grabbed a wool coat hanging by the door and walked outside. I paused on the small porch, listening intently for any sign of the hunter, not wanting him to see me as I walked off in his clothes. Though I knew he wouldn’t shoot at a human, I still felt the tingle of fear from my animal side. That was enough to scare me. Standing for another moment, I heard nothing but the far off rustle of a few lingering leaves on the winter trees, blowing in the wind. I stepped out from under the shelter of the porch and took off on the trail toward the highway. I walked as fast as I could, considering the large boots and my still awkward familiarity with walking.
I felt as though I had been dropped here from another world. I had to wonder what world? Would someone recognize me? I knew nothing beyond the last two weeks of my life. There were instincts that told me I was different, that the fact I could also be an owl wasn’t something to flaunt but hold private. I understood basic things as I said before, but how did I know them?
Perhaps my answers lay with the one I was supposed to find. Seeing him would solve all my problems.
I knew it.
EMILY:
All the guests had finally left. My mother had collapsed on the couch downstairs, now snoring. Watching her, I didn’t know how she could manage to sleep at all—my heart hadn’t stopped aching. I walked upstairs to my bedroom where I found Wes. He lay across my bed on his stomach, legs sprawled and mouth open, also snoring. My pink comforter was tangled over his body, making me smile for the first time today. There was a gentle creak from the rocking chair in the corner of my room. I jumped, expecting to see Jake, but it wasn’t Jake sitting in it this time. It was Lacy.
I breathed deep. “You scared me,” I whispered.
Lacy shrugged. She didn’t seem to care what she had done to me, good or bad. That was just the way she was.
I looked back at Wes. My once fond admiration of his sleep was now replaced with annoyance. I hated when Wes dozed off and left me alone with Lacy. Frankly, I didn’t have the energy to care whether she liked me or not, but still, I felt rude not saying something. I guess what was useful with our forced companionship was that we shared a similar feeling—a feeling of loss.
Her eyes flashed away from the wall to me, looking so much wilder than her brother’s. “You mean Missy,” she corrected. The ongoing fight as to what to call the owl still lingered even after her death. Wes had nicknamed her Stella, which I had to agree was a cuter name than the Missy name Lacy had given her.
“I’m sorry about Missy,” I corrected. “I know she was like a sister to you.” I didn’t like being stuck in the middle of their name fight. I needed to remember to flip flop from one to the other depending on who I was with.
“You can’t understand,” Lacy grumbled.
I found that a pompous statement, given the circumstances. “I can try.”
I could see Lacy’s shoulders soften and she leaned forward in the rocking chair. Perhaps she would open up to me for once. “She was the only thing I had for so long. I envied her, even. Missy could be who and what she was. She had simple emotion. She had a simple life.”
I smiled, “And a crush on Wes.” It was a daring thing to say, but it paid off.
Lacy laughed. “Yeah. Seriously.”
“Missy loved you most, though. You just couldn’t see that from your perspective.”
“No, I couldn’t.” Lacy was staring at her hands, rubbing her thumbs together with her fingers folded together.
“Wasn’t it obvious when she gave her life to protect you?” I continued. Lacy deserved as many condolences as I did. Unfortunately, human’s never understood consoling someone so gravely for what seemed to them a simple lost pet. Stella, or Missy, wasn’t just a pet. Though Missy had been a thorn in my side with her constant jealousy over Wes, I now admired her devotion as a friend.
“I guess you could say she’s in a better place.” Lacy offered.
I nodded in agreement. “I’m sure she’s with Jane.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and we fell into silence. Many minutes passed before the silence was interrupted by a snort from Wes. I looked over at him in time to see his eyes open a crack. He mumbled something but I couldn’t understand him.
“What?”
He took a moment to wake up before repeating himself, wiping drool from his mouth. “What time is it?”
“Close to midnight.” I grabbed his ankle through the pink comforter.
He rolled over, spinning under my touch. “Any word from Max?”
I shook my head. “About what?”
Wes rubbed his eyes. “Oh, right, you weren’t there. Max thinks he found a lead on Greg.”
I shuddered at the mention of his name. I was never going to get used to hearing it, not since he brain washed me and forced me to kill a man at the beginning of this year.
“He’s left to go see if he can catch up with him,” he went on.
“Went where?” Lacy chimed in.
Wes shook his head. “No idea. He didn’t seem to want my help.”
“I don’t think I want you to help,” I protested. “Not with anything concerning Greg—or Avery for that matter.”
Wes ignored me.
I couldn’t help but feel anxious about the fact that Wes had offered to help. The last thing I needed was to lose him as well. He, Jane and Jake—and I suppose Lacy—were the only people I had to confide in. Without Wes here, I’d be forced to confide with Jake, and I doubt Lacy would stick around without Max. I really just didn’t want to be left with Jake. It’s not that I disliked Jake, if anything it was something of the opposite. Jake’s blue dancing light continued to tease me, and in my weakening state I wasn’t sure I could trust myself alone with it, I could barely trust myself in a crowded room with it. My only hope was that if Wes left to help Max, he’d take Jake with him. At least then I’d get a few moments of peace.
Wes propped his hands behind his head. “Jake would be there with me,” he said, as though hearing my thoughts for once. “Greg can’t stop the three of us together. Besides, Greg won’t hurt Max because what hurts Max hurts him, too. You have to remember that.”
“I remember,” I barked, further irritated. “That’s what worries me. It makes you and Jake easy targets. He may avoid killing Max, but he probably won’t take the same precautions with the two of you.”
“Max won’t let anything happen to us,” he added with a shrug, as though it was no big deal.
I snorted. “Right, just like he’d never let anything happen to Jane.”
MAX:
I stormed through the large carved doors into the empty hall. “Srixon!” I yelled, an undeniably irrational pitch to my voice.
My feet pounded over the tiled floor, past columns draped in flowing fabric thrown skyward with my passing. A few steps later I’d reached the alter. Srixon stood with his back to me, lighting a candle and placing it on the pew as though my presence meant nothing. He silently made one last prayer, taking his time before turning to face me.
“My son.”
His calm greeting only threw wood on my fiery anger. I was in no mood to entertain Srixon’s references to me as his son, not anymore. “You protected her, didn’t you?” I was referring to Avery, his only offspring—it was the only thing that made sense. He had purposefully withheld the truth of the prophecy in order to protect her. Though she was evil, I could see that a father’s love for his daughter transcends many boundaries, good or bad. It was like my love for my brother. I would always hope he’d change.
“I’m sorry, Max,” he admitted.
Looking him in the eye, I saw the guilt and the truth, but it wasn’t guilt enough—I expected more remorse. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Srixon laced his fingers together before him. His gold trimmed robe was cuffed around his wrists, draping to the floor and sweeping the ground in a dramatic fashion. “I do.”
“Well, I don’t. I need to know the whole prophecy. You told me Jane was an integral part. Jane’s father implied this as well. I don’t understand, then, why she died before this came to fruition.”
Srixon looked at a loss for words.
I went on. “I need to know the truth if you expect me to fix this for you, if you even want to see it fixed.” I narrowed my eyes, trying to read him.
Again he gave me no answers.
I let the question that had been burning through my conscience come out. “Have you sided with the Black Angels?” I threatened.
Srixon finally reacted, swallowing hard.
I feared his reaction, sensing fault, but could it also have been from fear or vulnerability? “Please Srixon, don’t tell me that—”
He raised his hand to stop me. “I will never side with the Black Angels. I will always be a Knight.”
His words were reassuring and strong, suggesting truth, though his truthfulness in the past was in question. Right now, however, I was going to have to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Then start acting like a Knight,” I spoke strongly. It felt cliché, but well warranted. “You need to forget your family ties for a moment and think about the future of our world. Besides, your daughter would not show you the same mercy you’ve shown her, and you know it. She hates all of us—me for breaking her heart and taking her light, you for putting her in the situation in the first place, and everyone else for laughing at her when it happened. In a way, I can’t blame her for being so angry. Stronger beings than her would have taken the same dark path she has. She hates us with reason,” I reiterated.
Srixon shook his head. “You’re wrong, Max. Avery still loves the both of us. She’s just lost.”
My jaw locked. “I don’t see the difference.”
Srixon took a moment to think on this, dropping his hands to his sides as though tired. “If there’s one thing you need to trust me on, it’s the fact that I can bring her back.”
I was shaking my head, refusing to believe him. “You keep going back to this, trying time and time again to bring your sweet Avery back but you fail every time. It’s insanity.”
“This time it can’t fail. The prophecy has changed. Avery must be persua
ded to come back to our side if any of us are going to survive.”
I was taken aback for a moment. It was impossible to pull a pixie out of the shadows. How was it the prophecy could expect this to happen? I clenched my fists, trying to keep myself from attacking Srixon here and now. If he had been candid about the prophecy from the beginning, we wouldn’t be in this mess. “I suggest you tell me the whole prophecy. No more lies, Srixon. This time I demand council with the prophets themselves. It is the only way I will agree to any of this. I will not waste my time on any more of your lies.”
Srixon nodded, though reluctantly.
“I demand to see them right now. I have a lead on Greg and I don’t want to lose it waiting for you to grant me permission.” I stuck my hand in his face. “I want to learn the truth. I want to move forward.”
My request had made Srixon noticeably nervous, but my steady ground hopefully urged him to see that I wasn’t leaving without learning the truth—not this time.
After a moment of further thought, Srixon sighed and turned his back to me, “Follow me.” He urged me forward with a waving hand.
I followed him around and behind the golden alter and through a door to the left that lead deeper into the temple and capital building. Stone steps wound downward, further and further until the dampness of being below ground could be felt against my skin. At last the stairway ended at a door lit by a single flame. The flame was housed within a small glass lantern that sat on a small pedestal to the left. I was unable to pick up a lot of the detail on the pedestal, but I could tell it was elaborate.
Srixon pushed open the old wood door and it gave with ease, though the hinges screamed otherwise. We entered into a room just as dimly lit as the stairway behind us. At first I wasn’t exactly sure what it was I was seeing, but as my eyes quickly adjusted, I found myself astonished. Roots hung from the ceiling, dripping with condensation and forming puddles on the cracked cobblestone floor. The moisture filled the air with a dank scent of earth and rotting wood. We wove through the roots, some as large as trees, each coated in a green mossy slime. Glass bowls of light on the same elaborate pedestals were scattered amongst the roots in no organized fashion, though they seemed to guide our way. At last, the overall light in the room grew brighter like an approaching sunrise. The roots had thinned as though reaching the edge of an upside-down forest. Eventually, they ended all together and the room opened up to a large golden dome. Looking up, the ceiling appeared to be alive with wisps of gold dust, swirling and dancing like a flock of birds. There was a dull wash of sound entering my ears, like waves on a sandy shore but it was swiftly interrupted. In the middle of the room, laughter erupted from a point of light so bright, it was hard for me to focus.
