by Cecy Robson
“There is nothing about you that’s proven normal, Sophia,” Michael says in a quiet tone. He is masking his feelings but I can’t be sure if it’s to avoid detection from the crowd, or from me.
“Best take a load off,” Rama says, gesturing to a nearby chair. He gives me a look that says he understands what really happened. He should. It was Rama who preformed the ritual that made me a double. He knew the rules as much as Ka and I did; she wasn’t supposed to travel too far away and risk taking my vital elements with her. I never imagined that would include my soul.
While Michael guides me to a chair on the stage, Rama addresses the curious crowd and explains why I cried out moments ago, why I nearly fainted at the end of the ceremony.
“My wahine went overboard today. Nothing to worry about. As most of you know, she single-handedly destroyed a Demon Knight from the fifth kingdom. Took a lot out of her. She needs time to rebalance her energy, is all.” He smiles and nods, urging everyone to carry on with their celebration. The annual graduation for Halos of the Son and spirit walkers is usually a festive, if not reverent, affair. He wants everyone to enjoy themselves. Raph and Milvi are shouldering their way through the mass, eager to reach me.
“Please tell them I’m fine,” I say to Michael, who’s gone down on one knee beside my chair. He is dressed in his ceremonial clothes of black and gold body armor, sword, and black cape down his back. He looks every bit a Roman soldier, like the other Halos.
“Sophia—” Michael tries again, but this time I cut him off. I can’t let him voice his doubts.
“Michael, please! Tell your family I just need to catch my breath. I’m good. Everything is good.”
His eyes narrow and his jaw muscle twitches. Making him angry makes me feel worse. Moments before I felt my soul ripped away, Michael had tugged three times on my heart. His supernatural way of telling me he loves me. I haven’t had the chance to say it back. Ours is not a relationship to share with others. No one can know that Michael and I are in love. I’ll have to wait until we’re alone.
In the meantime, Michael reluctantly agrees to my request. He jumps from the stage and stops Raph and Milvi before they can reach me. As he explains things to his brother and cousin, Rama pulls up a chair beside me and takes my hand. I’m filled with panic all over again.
“What’s happened?” I whisper. “What went wrong?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t know. Gotta ride this into the shallows and then we’ll see.”
“I have to talk to Bailey. Last I knew, she was at the dance in the courthouse, keeping an eye on Ka.”
Rama plays it cool, smiling and waving to guests who throw curious glances our way. Beneath his calm facade, he’s trembling. I can’t imagine what kind of trouble he’s in—an Ascended Master losing his own spirit walker’s soul to a Demon Knight.
My guilt has multiplied exponentially.
I’m so worked up I can hardly sit still. “Well, I’m not waiting around here any longer.” I stand slowly to gauge my equilibrium. As a spirit walker, I am constantly absorbing the earth’s energy. Losing my soul has not changed that. My head is clear, and while my legs shake it’s not so much that they can’t do their job. Michael returns to the stage, pensive and uneasy. He eyes me for a moment before speaking.
“I’ve explained to my family but…well, my parents have arranged a private celebration at the house. They were hoping you would come, but if you’re too—”
“Of course she’ll come!” Rama says overdramatically before I have a chance to bow out. His own energy is as taut as a tight rope. He’s desperate to placate Michael and give a sense of normalcy. For his sake, I have no choice but to do as I’m told.
“Well, I guess I should change first.” I’m still wearing my ceremonial clothes: blue shorts, brown leather vest, leather cuff bracelets, ankle boots, and weapons. Hardly after-party attire. I tell them I’ll meet them at the door in a few minutes then I smile tentatively at Rama, hoping he’ll understand that I need time alone to sort everything out. Looks like the private dressing chamber is my only option at the moment.
I descend the steps and enter the labyrinth of colorful tents. The meadow is thick with guests so I weave through, keeping my head down to avoid being stopped by well-wishers that I’d rather not lie to. My second heartbeat rages inside me; Michael ignored my request and is hard on my heels. I know he’ll bombard me with questions the moment we’re alone. This, I want to avoid.
I catch a glimpse of Michael’s cousin, Milvi, waiting for me outside the dressing chamber at the edge of the meadow. She’s one step ahead of me and I realize privacy is not to be mine after all.
I stop short, turn around, and raise my hand. Michael halts. “Please, don’t follow me. Don’t make a scene.”
He steps closer and whispers, “I’m not the one making a scene, Sophia. Are you going to tell me what happened on that stage? Are you going to tell me the truth?”
The truth? I would love to tell Michael the truth. But I’m terrified of what he’ll think of me. I’ve only just now gotten him back. How can I explain that I’ve been involved with Dante, that I allowed him—begged him—to take me to a private demon nightclub to find a spell book so I could create Ka. How do I explain Dante’s late-night visits? How do I explain my trust in the demon whose only ambition has been to Take my soul? How do I tell Michael that Dante has Taken my soul?
I can’t. At least not now. Not when I’m not sure how it happened. I haven’t even explored ways to get my soul back. There is so much I need to understand first, and risking Michael’s love all over again is not an option.
I reroute his attention to something more intimate. Besides, this is truth of a different kind.
I close the distance between us and whisper, “Michael…I was completely shocked to feel three tugs on my heart. I was afraid you…didn’t love me anymore. I was afraid we were—”
“Of course I still love you,” Michael murmurs. His anger vanishes on the heels of my confession, and he starts to raise his hands to hold me but remembers himself and lets them drop. He works to overcome his emotions. Struggles to harden his resistance. But his eyes can’t hide his desire. “I’ve missed you so much. I’d give anything to touch you right now.”
Blood rushes to my face, burning my cheeks with a deep sort of yearning. I’m caught off guard by his intimate admission, lost within myself as he gazes into my eyes. We stare as if we’re holding hands. Everything else falls away when Michael looks at me with such longing. I don’t want to disturb anything. I want to keep Hope right here; I want to stand back and watch it grow and grow. Strong and vibrant above all else. Hope that I can make things right is all I have.
I clasp my hands to keep from reaching for him. I wonder if there will be a day when we can do as we please, hold each other without worry, without breaking any spiritual vows.
Heat pulsates between us like an electric charge, and I see that Michael is struggling to hide his emotions. Color rises to his cheeks while his fist clutches the hilt of his sword. His liquid blue eyes blink slowly, so heavy with need that it breaks my heart. I don’t want to fight this anymore. I can’t, and I raise my hand to cup his face.
“Sophia!” Raph calls out, causing us to flinch and step back. He pushes through the guests and wraps me in a hug. “Congratulations! Never had a doubt that you could do it.” He steps back and clasps my shoulders, grinning. I instinctively look away, afraid he’ll sense my desire for Michael, or worse, notice my missing soul. “Hey, you’re coming to our house, right? You know Mom and Dad planned a private party?” He continues without missing a beat. He has failed to learn anything from me, and I’m flooded with relief. Maybe this is going to work after all.
Michael clears his throat. “I was just telling her about that. In case she wants to stop by and—”
“Mom’d be disappointed if you didn’t come.” Raph ignores Michael and drapes an arm around my shoulder, leading me away. “Can I tell her you’ll be there?”
&nbs
p; “Of course. I was just on my way to change.”
Raph deposits me at the dressing chamber, where I turn and look back for Michael. He is gone.
“Congratulations!” Milvi calls from inside the chamber and then throws her arms around me. She is strong and thin beneath the red silk dress. Milvi and I sparred during my training, and I have considerable respect for her fighting skills. She’ll make a great guardian someday.
“I knew you could do it. And remember, if you ever want your butt kicked again, just ask and I’ll make myself available.” She laughs with genuine delight. If Milvi sensed that I lacked a soul, I have no doubt she would demand an answer. Immediately. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong, and I’m gaining confidence that my trick has worked. How long it will continue to fool everyone, I have no idea.
“You’re going to Katarina’s party, right?” Milvi asks, and then turns without waiting for an answer. I follow her inside the dressing chamber. It’s a cool, comfortable space—every girl’s ultimate dream closet—with shelves of shoes, racks of dresses, skirts, pants, and tops. The walls are lined with shimmering gowns, and there are accessories, everywhere. At a glance, the decor is a display of 1940’s chic, with elegant blacks, grays, silvers, and creams. A chic black rug takes up the majority of the gray marble floor, on which a shimmering silver sofa rests next to a tailored gray chair. Massive mirrors in heavy silver frames lean against the walls, and several delicate chandeliers sparkle overhead. A black armoire with mirrored doors stands in the corner next to an elaborate cream-colored sideboard with a silver tea set and a variety of colorful little cakes. Milvi bites into a tiny frosted cake before sifting through the clothing for options in her size.
“It’s a casual party so don’t worry too much,” she says, selecting black tights, a miniskirt, tall boots, and several shirts in varying lengths to layer with. As she heads for one of the changing rooms, I stand rooted in place. The bloody clothes that Chang`e was kind enough to help me shed before the ceremony are still where I left them, in an ugly pool on the floor outside my changing room door. I stare at the pile, remembering Wolfgang’s black demon blood splashing across my shirt as I decapitated him. My pants, slashed by his claws, are covered in my own blood and remind me that my shins still ache despite the medicinal goop that Chang`e spread across them. Less than two hours ago, I almost died at the hands of a monster, and now my soul is probably on its way to Hell. How am I still standing?
I stiffen my spine and put the question out of my head. I have no regrets about anything I’ve done—creating Ka, which helped me become a spirit walker, or killing Wolfgang. Of course, I wish I’d kept a closer eye on Ka, but Wolfgang deserved what I did to him, and more. I won’t waste another thought on him.
Lucky for me, I don’t need to. My goal now is to do as Rama said: ride this evening into the shallows and then get answers about Ka. The physical pain of losing my soul has dissolved. It’s those dark visions that accompanied it that worry me. My instinct tells me that I am seeing what Ka is experiencing. As disturbing as the images are, I believe it’s a good sign. It means that Dante didn’t actually kill her. So as bizarre as it sounds, I’m hoping he took her to Hell, alive.
With my mind set, I move silently among the clothes, running my fingertips over silk and satin, suede and wool. I don’t care much about what I wear now, just that we get on with the evening. Eventually I select something warm and modest: black skinny jeans, a thick gray sweater, and black ankle boots. I step into the dressing room next to Milvi’s and strip down.
“Hey,” she calls. “Rama told you about the transition, right?”
“Huh?” I sound muffled from under the sweater sliding over my head. Milvi makes a few disparaging remarks about my Ascended Master, and then explains the process. Unlike guardians, who convert into spirit form in whatever clothes they might be wearing, spirit walkers will transition into the clothes they selected for their ceremonial attire. When I’m called to help a lost soul, I’ll convert from human form into spirit form, and everything I wore during the holy sacrament—everything that was blessed—will appear. Clothing and weapons. I’m excited at the prospect of it all, especially saving my first soul. But now I worry that my missing soul might prevent me from helping someone cross over. I add it to the list of questions I have for Rama, the moment we can be alone to discuss the newest mess I’ve gotten us into.
Once I’ve changed, Milvi says to leave my ceremonial clothes there, so I arrange them with my weapons on the sideboard for safekeeping. Then we head out. We work our way around the hectic meadow and through the guests with their congratulatory wishes. It doesn’t go unnoticed that most everyone is regarding me with a certain amount of curiosity or a particular sense of awe. Some even bow their heads as I pass by, as though I’m someone above their station of Halo or Guardian or Seer or even Messenger for The Council of Guardians. Milvi has no response when I ask her about it. She’s pretending ignorance and I drop it, since I have enough on my plate to worry about.
Rama and Michael are near the door when we approach. Rama is fidgety and eager to leave. Michael has changed into jeans and a dark blue shirt. He is in the center of a crowd, swamped by congratulating pats on the back and vigorous handshakes. So many friends and warriors have come to offer their praise, and young guardians to ask his advice. Their admiration and respect is obvious, and Michael favors them with a patient smile. His mind is on other matters.
When he sees me, his face stills, and then he breaks away, making vague excuses to his admirers. We meet at the door, where Milvi is entertaining Rama with her dramatic and over-descriptive view of the ceremony. He listens politely while she points out holy dignitaries who’ve attended or friends from Estonia whom she hasn’t seen in ages. I realize I haven’t congratulated Michael on becoming a Halo so I tell him now. He smiles and cocks his head in a faint bow.
“And congratulations to you, too, spirit walker Sophia.” His voice is soft and thick with emotion. “I’m happy for you. You’ve earned your place.” His smile is warm and loving, and I know he means it. Michael is truly happy for me.
His gaze lingers longer than necessary. He wants to say more, much more, but Rama is watching us. Without a word, my Ascended Master steps between us and takes my elbow, deliberately guiding me out the door.
With no moon or stars, we are instantly swallowed by the night. Snowflakes dance around the four of us as we traipse up the thick path leading to the Patronuses’ Victorian farmhouse. It’s a short trek that moves organically through trees, across an open field, and around Katarina’s extensive garden. We’re nearly there when I realize I’m not as cold as I should be. I stop and scoop snow into my hands. It’s chilled but not so icy.
“Why don’t I feel the cold?”
Everyone turns and looks back at me. Milvi laughs and smashes the snowball I’ve made. “Because you have spiritual energy rushing through your veins. Rama didn’t tell you what to expect?”
Rama is distracted, and I suspect he’s been preoccupied with more important issues. He comes around to the question. “Oh, for sure. I’ll tell her what to expect. There just hasn’t been time yet. Lots of changes coming, wahine. And for you, too, Michael. Now that you’re a Halo.”
Rama and Michael lock eyes for a moment, and then Michael gives him a sharp nod. He seems well aware of the duties and expectations required of an elite warrior. The details are lost on me. I don’t want to think about Michael being called away or sent on a mission. We haven’t had time to settle things between us. If he’s called up now, we might not see each other for a very long time. The idea makes a knot of my stomach.
The Patronus farmhouse is situated at the top of a gentle hill. It’s a glorious sight, with numerous peaks and dormers heavy with snow. Tall, beveled windows glow with soft light. Smoke drifts from the chimney, adding a pleasant, earthy aroma to the frigid smell of snow. We plod up the steps and onto the sprawling back porch, stomping snow from our shoes. Milvi bursts out laughing becau
se Rama’s huarache sandals have disappeared completely. He looks like he’s wearing two giant snowballs.
I manage a faint smile. Milvi’s laughter reminds me that this should’ve been a night for celebration. Rama deserves some fun after all the stress I’ve put him through during my training. Unfortunately, I’ve ruined that, too. After we’ll thank Michael’s family for their good wishes, Rama and I will have to leave. I’m sure he’s feeling just as desperate to find Bailey as I am. We have to know what happened to Ka.
We pile through the back door and then stop in the hallway, overcome by an angry shouting voice coming from the living room.
“You promised to protect her! You gave me your word that nothing would happen to her! You’re angels, for God’s sake! How could you let this happen?”
“Please, calm down so that we may understand what has you so upset.” Katarina addresses the outburst in her characteristically patient tone.
Michael and I look quickly at each other. We can’t comprehend what we’re hearing. Or how it’s even possible.
Milvi murmurs “Uh-oh,” and pushes past us. We follow hard on her heels, down the hall and into the living room. I stop cold.
“Dad?”
He whirls around, just as stunned to see me as I am to see him.
—
Everyone is there: Katarina, Dimitri, Raph, Gabe, Uriel with some bird perched on his shoulder, Uncle Pavvo, and Aunt Sasha. And Dad, standing in his black tuxedo in the middle of the living room looking as though he might faint. His mouth is hanging open and his eyes are frozen on me. I glance around the room, taking it all in. Michael’s family appears calm, while Dad—who shouldn’t even be here—is catatonic.
