Immortal Storm

by Heather Bserani

  “Dori?” Michael asked, trying to gauge the look on her face.

  “What was that you were saying before?” Dori asked him, her eyes riveted on the trees behind Michael.

  It was now her turn to taunt him. Two more trees pounded the ground as they fell, flanking Michael. He wasn’t trapped, but it was clear that the only way out was through her. Michael grinned sheepishly. She wasn’t going to give in easily now that she knew about this new ability.

  Michael glanced around, gaining full understanding of exactly what Dori could do. She began to advance slowly on her prey, her eyes were focusing on Michael’s neck; her nostrils wide.

  “Nowhere to run?” she asked him, her voice lifting, feigning innocence.

  For a split second, she sensed his fear. His instincts were undoubtedly screaming for him to get out of here. She paused and he sighed with relief.

  “For a minute there -” he started, but he was interrupted by the sound of the trees again. The menacing grin had returned to Dori’s face. He glanced toward the noise behind him, and jumped forward. The trees Dori had knocked down were now slowly rolling toward Michael. The air filled with the moan and snap of roots being stretched and torn from the ground. He was being forced to either approach Dori or be crushed. They both knew that even if he were to be crushed, he would heal, but for the first time in a long time he knew she had the upper hand. Dori chuckled and Michael shivered.

  “Truce?” he asked raising his arms in defeat, his eyes wide.

  Dori sprang. She hurled herself at him, knocking them both to the ground. They rolled under the momentum of her attack. When they finally stopped, she was on top of her prey, holding him down. They were both out of breath from the surprise. Neither of them moved. Predator and prey lay there looking at each other, trying to catch their breath; they didn’t speak. Dori wasn’t sure when it happened but as she was staring at his disheveled hair and the dimple in his chin, her mood shifted from aggression to infatuation. Her skin tingled with excitement; she could feel his warm breath on her face making her forget everything but her desires.

  Michael’s eyes grew wide as he took in Dori’s expression. Dori licked her lips and slowly bowed her head to his neck. She hovered over his skin and inhaled his scent before she brought her mouth down. Michael exhaled as her lips pressed into his flesh, next to his Adam’s apple. Her kiss was gentle, lingering. Her lips worked to his jaw and she noticed that his eyes were closed as he enjoyed the moment.

  As her lips followed his jaw line up toward his ear, she whispered, “Gotcha!”

  With a motion so fast it was invisible, Michael turned over so he was pinning her down, their faces mere inches apart. His eyes seemed to tell her a thousand things at once but she couldn’t focus on any of them. She was bewildered by his intensity. His hand found its way to her face and he gently ran his fingertips across her cheekbone. He leaned his head closer to hers and the energy surged between them. The anticipation of his kiss would have had her heart racing if that were possible. Finally his lips touched hers, gently at first and then with a growing passion as if this moment had been stifled for far too long.

  She kissed him back with enthusiasm, excited by the urgency in his lips. The world fell away and it was as if they were the only beings who existed. In that moment she was reminded exactly how much she cared for him and it was easy to see that she would stay with him always. His hand found her face again and he cradled her cheek. She pulled away from his kiss to relish his tender touch.

  “I love you, Michael,” she whispered. He didn’t answer; his mouth was busy on her neck. His lips finally pressed into hers and she wound her fingers into his hair. The two pressed ever closer, and closing her eyes, she let her instincts take over.

  * * *

  Dori was still intoxicated as they walked home hand in hand and she was content to stay in this happy fog as long as possible. It took her a while to sleep that night; her mind was preoccupied with her happiness. She didn’t think it was fair to be as completely fulfilled as she was, especially when that fulfillment would last forever. She felt the giddiness of first love all over again. Without realizing when it happened, she had drifted into a beautiful dream.

  She had heard it clearly: someone had called her name. It woke her, but when she opened her eyes, the house was absolutely silent. She lay there, lost in the covers, listening, but she heard nothing. Looking around, she decided it was time to get up. She opened the door to her bedroom to head down the hallway and what she saw stopped her in her tracks. There in front of her was the long hallway to the living room, but it was now lined on both sides with easels displaying tiny paintings. Candles ran the length of the corridor. The paintings weren’t any bigger than snapshots, but the detail in each was breathtaking. Dori was certain that Michael had painted them, but when? The candles created a soft glow in the hallway leading her to where he invariably waited for her.

  She stepped out into the makeshift gallery and looked at the first painting. It was an image of Michael sitting alone in a field, looking downward. The colors were grays and browns. They cast a sense of sorrow over the piece. Michael’s figure was small in the bottom corner while the empty field stretched out before him. The way his shoulders sagged in the painting made her melancholy. She approached the second picture.

  This time it was the same field, but Michael’s figure was straighter. He was standing, looking toward the horizon where the sun was about to appear. The colors in the sky were warm and there was a subtle smile on Michaels face. His arms were open and welcoming. The sadness was gone in this painting. She continued down the hallway stopping to admire each image. She understood that these paintings told a story and there was a purpose for their order. Michael was telling her about his life, and how she changed it. He was sharing some of his most intimate feelings through his art.

  The paintings themselves continued to grow in their optimism and the scene shifted. As she neared the other end of the hallway, he was no longer alone in the painting. She was entering the field to join him. In the last painting, they were standing together, fingers intertwined. She was resting her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she had the most peaceful look on her face. He was reclining his head on top of hers.

  It was a gentle portrait of the two of them. This painting didn’t have the same amount of detail as the original; it was more impressionistic. Michael had played with the light in the image, so much that it seemed as if Dori was glowing. She stood looking at the last painting for a while. She couldn’t help but smile, the image was so tender. If there had been any doubt in her mind as to the depth of Michael’s feelings, it was completely erased now. The painting showed her just how much he loved her. It was as clear to her as if he had spoken the words in her ear. She acknowledged with satisfaction that she loved him too.

  She turned to enter the living room and found him sitting in his favorite chair, legs crossed, smiling. He was balancing a tiny box on his knee. A warm smile spread across Dori’s face as she stood in the threshold. Pure elation washed over her. He noticed the pause in her step and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “I trust you enjoyed the exhibit?”

  “Very much so,” she answered quietly.

  “You haven’t seen the final piece,” Michael said gesturing toward the black box.

  She advanced slowly, not wanting the moment to end. She wondered what gift he would shower her with now. She was sure it would be spectacular since he had clearly spent a great deal of time putting all of this together.

  “Dori, it’s just a box, it won’t hurt you.”

  Exhaling sharply, she took a deep breath and picked up the gift. She pulled the top back and looked inside, prepared to see a large diamond shining at her. She was surprised instead to see a simple silver band with miniscule words engraved on it. Her breath caught in her throat. She pulled the box closer so she could read the inscription.

  “Il mio cuore è il tuo per sempre,” she whispered to herself.

&n
bsp; “My heart is yours forever,” he translated.

  He leaned forward grasping her hand and he slid the ring on her finger before she fully understood what was happening. He kissed her hand, glancing up at her as he did. She was awestruck.

  “It’s our anniversary, Preziosa. You have filled my life with sunlight and I will always be yours.”

  She sat, her hands still in his, not knowing what to say. A million thoughts were rushing through her head. She was beaming with the sentiment he was sharing with her, she was flattered by his attention. She was absolutely in love with the man who sat in front of her; perhaps love wasn’t a strong enough word.

  Suddenly saddened, Dori realized that she had no gift for Michael.

  “I’m sorry, the date must have escaped me. I don’t have a gift for you.”

  “Don’t worry, Preziosa, it’s only one day in the many that await us. I don’t need gifts, I already have what I want.” His eyes were gentle, his smile genuine. “How do you feel about a little trip today?”

  “Sounds great, where are we going?”

  “Far enough away that we can’t go by foot. Let’s grab a quick bite and then I’ll give you a hint.” They smiled in unison at the thought of the chase and Michael’s double entendre.

  It wasn’t long before they were in the car holding hands. She stared at the passing landscape. His hint as to their destination, “south”, hadn’t narrowed down the possibilities. She let her mind wander as the miles slipped by. She noticed as the barren trees and soggy snow gave way to sparse sprigs of grass peeking through opaque slush. The empty trees had long given way to trunks and branches thick with sap. By noon they had crossed through most of Pennsylvania and were quickly headed toward Maryland. The snow was completely gone and the forest was highlighted by the first signs of the yellow-green of tender spring leaves. She had asked several times, how far they were going, and each time Michael responded with a squeeze of his hand and the same one word answer, “south”.

  She grew bored with the passing trees and let her mind drift further, closing her eyes. The lulling motion of the car, along with the sun warming her skin, were impossible to resist and it wasn’t long before she was in that half-asleep place, vaguely aware of Michael in the car, but more intent on her reverie. Her dream from the night before came back to her. Not the entire sequence, merely one image. She saw herself holding Michael’s hands staring at his face. They were both smiling at each other. The background was out of focus, but it was beautiful amber-gold, the color of honey. It had been warm in her dream. She remembered feeling happy.

  It was at this point last night that she had been awakened by someone calling her name. That part had left her quite unsettled, but distracted by Michael’s art, she hadn’t gotten around to figuring out why. As the dream replayed itself, the voice echoed in her mind again. It was instantly clear why she had felt disturbed. The voice that called her name didn’t belong to Michael. She tried to open her eyes and come back to the present, but a part of her subconscious wouldn’t let her go. She paused and the voice repeated her name. This voice was a deeper voice with an unfamiliar accent. It kept echoing in her mind; it was growing louder and louder. Finally, she was able to shake herself out of it and she awoke with a start.

  The sun was much closer to the horizon than before; the first signs of evening were upon them. She glanced around, blinking, trying to get her bearings and trying to memorize the voice in her head. She had to figure out who would be calling her. Maybe there was someone else who could communicate with her from beyond. Maybe Grandma wasn’t alone. Michael squeezed her hand.

  “Did you rest well? We’re almost there.”

  “Michael, will you please tell me where we are going?” She emphasized the word please. This subtle kidnapping had gone on long enough.

  Not willing to give in just yet Michael said, “We will be there in less than half an hour.” He set his jaw, and his confident smile had his eyes sparkling in the setting sun. She knew he would say no more so she went back to the scenery. She hadn’t noticed the change and was surprised to see that the thick forest from before had given way to a four lane highway and bustling traffic. They passed a sign indicating the business district for Richmond.

  “We’re in Virginia?” Dori exclaimed.

  “Do you mind a slight detour before we arrive at our hotel for the night?” Michael’s eyes danced with excitement. He was like a child staring at a pile of presents under the Christmas tree; he was glowing with anticipation. She knew it wasn’t really a question.

  A few turns later and Michael was parking the car. He opened her door and helped her out.

  “We’re walking?”

  “It’s not far, Preziosa. Trust me. It will be worth the trip.”

  Intrigued by his expression, she accompanied him down a short side street and as they rounded the corner onto the main road, she saw what he had been so quiet about. In front of them was a big sign, announcing the Richmond Ballet. On a sandwich board near the entrance was another sign with only two words. Those two words froze Dori in her tracks. She was speechless. As the realization of the purpose of this trip set in, she couldn’t help but smile. Michael put his arm around her and pulled her close.

  “Auditions tomorrow. Yours is at 10. It’s time to make your dream come true.”

  “But Michael I...I didn’t bring...I haven’t...it’s been so long...,” she stammered, still shocked by all of this. A memory of an old dance studio flickered in her mind. Images of ballet tutus flitted behind her eyes. When she was younger she had dreamt of being a ballerina, but time had passed and life had interrupted that dream. She never imagined that she would have the opportunity to come back to dancing and she was surprised by how much she instantly wanted this. Her throat was tight and her mind raced. Her stomach was full of butterflies. Michael seemed to sense her anxiety.

  “Everything is worked out. You can do this. Don’t think about it, dance with your heart and no one will be able to resist you. Let’s get you to the hotel. You need a good night’s sleep.”

  “Yeah right. There’s no way I can sleep now!” After staring at the Ballet for a few more minutes, Michael convinced her that the hotel was in her best interest and they headed off arm in arm.

  “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

  “Tomorrow your dreams come true, Ballerina Girl.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  April 25, 1598

  Ironic it is that Spring blossoms amidst the trail of deathe we leave behind. To know that salvation was so close to our befallen colonie twists at my too, too still heart. I am again reminded that my hopes full of optimism were stolen by the nightmare that was thrust upon me. I spend my days sleeping like the dead, hidden from my maker, and the nightes are filled with chase, sometimes as the hunter, sometimes as the hunted.

  My path has become clear. I must destroy Barwicke, he cannot be allowed to roam free, destroying all that he comes near. To that ende I must stay close. He has made no secrete about laying claim on my head for my mutinous attempt. His minions have been charged with my capture and torture, but my demise shall be at the hands of the master. Already the hunt tires me.

  I have found no place safe and I dare not seek out humanity, fore I would be as dangerous to them as Barwicke. I am resigned to the wilderness where my sustenance is founde in the savage wildlife. I cannot bear taking human life, despite its siren call. Responsible I cannot be for luring the Master and his coven to destroy more people, colonists or natives. The forest shall provide my final resting place. I have but one task to accomplish…

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Okay, so I was thinking that after we open next week we can go out for a celebratory drink. It’s not like we haven’t earned it!” Golden waves fell past her shoulders as she unwound her bun. Dori thought it was completely unfair that her friend could just tousle her hair and it looked perfect.

  “I just heard about this new place, they have karaoke. It would be so much fun!” The s
outhern twang rang through the air, making everything this girl said seem all the more debonair. Her turquoise eyes met Dori’s with so much enthusiasm that it was nearly impossible to say no. Her cheeks were still flushed from the exertion of the rehearsal. Dori noticed her ever present smile and she knew that it was pointless to try to refuse.

  “Addison, I have to let Michael know, and I am NOT singing!” Addison actually bounded across the dressing room and hugged Dori with a squeal of delight. Her energy was endless. Any normal human would have been exhausted after the eight hour rehearsal; of course Dori was fine, but the petite, blonde spitfire was as exuberant as a schoolgirl. How was it possible to be so happy?

  “You are going to have so much fun, and you will sing!” Dori chuckled. There was no way a human, not even this human, could force her to sing. Addison prattled on, sounding more like a teenager than an adult while Dori pondered this enigmatic creature.

  From the first moment she spoke, Addison addressed Dori as if they had been best friends for years. She had skipped over the awkward introductions and all the trite customs of befriending someone. Addison simply became a part of Dori’s world, never doubting that they would be friends. She was all confidence and sunshine. Addison unconditionally accepted her and never questioned anything that may have set her apart from the rest of the crowd.