An Immortal Dance

by Alastair Fontaine

A big mouth.

  It opens.

  Thousands suffer.

  A minstrel sings.

  A couple dance.

  Two smiles.

  Hearts blossom.

  A thief.

  A clever plan.

  He is a rich man.

  Others go hungry.

  A busy kitchen.

  A banquet for all.

  Fine foods.

  Sweet drinks.

  A nobleman.

  Drinks too much.

  A crimson haze.

  His family is gone.

  A gardener.

  Midsummer comes.

  Pink roses bloom.

  For his daughters.

  Plague. Disaster. Invasion.

  Man comes together.

  Or falls apart.

  Only they choose their fate.

  Vishnu. Sat Nam. Yù Huáng.

  Yahweh. Zeús. Ahura Mazda.

  Buddha. Allah. Odin. Ra.

  Millions of voices pray.

  Who’s right?

  Only they know.

  Brown.

  White.

  Everything in between.

  Who cares?

  Only they do.

  Alexandros.

  Akbar.

  Cesare.

  Their treasures scattered.

  Their dreams dissolved.

  It begs the question,

  Peithon.

  Hemu.

  Vitelli.

  Why did they die?

  Asriel to create.

  Naharai to destroy.

  Three to wander.

  And Belit.

  Belit?

  For we are meant to fall in love so strong

  only to be torn apart a cruel game fate must play on us,

  This time around though we will cheat fate in its own game

  if only you believe in our accursed love so rare, so beautiful

  ruined by fate waiting to be salvaged for eons.

  -Rain, India

  21

  Asriel opened his eyes to the glare of electric lights. He was lying on a hospital bed, surrounded by strangers. Grief was etched into every face. Two mortal women, a young, brown one and an older, pale one, were by his side, holding his hands. Tears rolled down their cheeks and their eyes were full of pity. He did not move, trying to comprehend what was happening.

  “Ambrose?” Mercy’s voice greeted him.

  “Who?” he replied in a musical language long forgotten by the mortal world.

  “Ambrose, are you feeling alright?” The English words began to clear the fog in his brain.

  “Where am I?” He switched to English. “Who is Ambrose?”

  “You are Ambrose, my son,” Mercy informed him, her eyes welling up with tears.

  “I do not know who that is,” he insisted, “I am Asriel.” He saw the woman turn to look at a tall man standing nearby, alarmed.

  “Ambrose, it’s me, Imani. That’s your mom and dad, and there’s Amos, Finn and Dave. Remember now?” the brown girl spoke, her voice trembling.

  “I do not know any of you people. Where is Belit?”

  “Belit?” Imani looked at him in confusion.

  “Forgive me, you may know her by a different name. Yellow hair? The most beautiful blue eyes? A magnificent figure, you’d know her if you saw her.”

  “You mean Courtney?”

  “I suppose I do. Well, where is she?”

  “Ambrose she’s-” Mercy stopped, unable to continue. She walked to her husband, falling into his arms and crying against his chest even as he struggled to maintain his own composure. Asriel began to remember something. Something terrible. No, it couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. She was nearby, somewhere, he was certain.

  “She’s where?” he asked, even as the hope in his eyes began to fade. There was a long pause, as everyone looked at each other, trying to decide who would deliver the news.

  “She’s gone, Ambrose. I’m so sorry. We all are.” Imani finally said, confirming what his heart had already accepted. “She’s literally gone, vanished, no one knows where she we-” Imani stopped, catching a sharp look from Richard. It was not the time or the place to tell Ambrose about Courtney’s unusual disappearance.

  “Belit…” he whispered, remembering the events of the previous day. At last, he began to recognize the faces around him. He had been Ambrose, and she had been Courtney. They had been so happy. “Please, leave me,” he beseeched them.

  “Are you sure? We’re all here for you. It’s best if you’re not alone, especially now,” Richard objected.

  “Leave me,” Asriel repeated, more forcefully. “All of you. Just go.”

  Richard looked at him dubiously, but Mercy gently led her husband away, squeezing his hand. The others slowly followed, until only Finn remained.

  “Ambrose, I-”

  Asriel interrupted him with an imperious wave of his hand. He did not have the patience for the fat mortal. “I said GO,” he shouted. Finn scurried out of the room, head bowed. “Oh, Belit!” Asriel quietly lamented, “How can you be gone? We were meant to be immortal.” Where a light had once danced in his hickory eyes, all that shone now were tears. They ran slowly down his cheeks, leaving little streams wherever they passed. He looked at the sky, his face contorting into a silent scream as agony coursed through his ancient soul. “My Belit, how am I meant to live on without you? How can I pass the centuries and millennia to come without your sapphires lighting the way? Now we are separated by a barrier that not even you can cross.”

  A new thought took a hold of him. Why had she not told him who he was from the start? Why had she lied to him like that? Why had she let him believe that he was a mortal? How could she do such a thing to him? She had lied to him. She had betrayed him, who loved her so. Did she want to control him? Did she think he would be easy to control as a mortal?

  “No.” A firm voice inside him spoke, and his rage dissolved into a crushing guilt. How could he suspect her of such malice? Even as a mortal, there had been no mistaking the emotion in her beautiful eyes. She had loved him. She had adored him every bit as much as he had cherished her. If she had lied to him, she had her reasons, and he would not question her. Asriel knew that convincing himself that she had betrayed him might have made it easier to let her go, but he could not. He would not. To do so would be unfair to her memory, and the love that they had shared.

  He sighed. Everything that had perplexed him hours before suddenly made sense. His dreams had not been dreams, but memories. Even the crimson mask had acquired meaning. It had not been a random vision. The mask was a terrible relic from times long past, from an age where their affection had faltered. It was a warning of what they could become if the icy fingers of despair ever again gripped their warm hearts, quenching the flames of their love. Now, it was he who threatened to succumb to the darkness in his immortal soul. He could not, would not. For her, he would live on. For her, he would not give up. Asriel had returned, and he would ensure that his Belit lived on forever in shining lights.

  Listen closely

  A reflection of the dark sky

  Or is it a dark soul

  Shed no blood and inherit eternal peace

  For He is with us.

  -A girl from Nigeria

  22

  Finn walked the busy, grey corridors of Hastings High. They were so empty without his best friend. Who would listen to his stupid jokes? Who would tolerate his daily torrent of emotional abuse? Who, except Ambrose, would befriend a fat, useless prick like him? No one. He was a lousy person and he knew it. He had betrayed Ambrose over childish jealousy.

  It had been tragedy after tragedy for Hastings in the past week. Ambrose had died a day after Courtney. They could not find a cause; he had just stopped breathing. The doctors had put it down to a case of a broken heart. Then, his body had disappeared. Just before the funeral, it had vanished without a trace, like Courtney’s. To top it off, Courtney’s mansion had caught fire a few days later, leavin
g only the charred marble ruins of what had once been a palatial estate.

  It had been tragedy after tragedy for Hastings in the past week. Ambrose had died a day after Courtney. They could not find a cause; he had just stopped breathing. The doctors had put it down to a case of a broken heart. Then, his body had disappeared. Just before the funeral, it had vanished without a trace, like Courtney’s. To top it off, Courtney’s mansion had caught fire a few days later, leaving only the charred marble ruins of what had once been a palatial estate.

  The police had suspected Courtney’s bodyguard. Perhaps, Marshall had become so attached to his employer that her death had driven him to madness. He could have knocked Ambrose out and taken Courtney’s body, disappearing into one of the secret passageways that had been found in the room where she died. In his grief, he might have then resolved to burn the house and kill Ambrose, the man who he blamed for Courtney’s death. If anyone could pull off a murder in the middle of a hospital undetected, it was Marshall, Finn thought.

  If he was honest with himself, Finn wanted it to be Marshall. He needed to hate someone, to blame someone for all the sadness that had befallen him. He needed to tell someone that because of them, he, Finnegan, was alone while Ambrose and Courtney were dancing in the stars that they had so loved. However, the police had reviewed the security cameras, ransacked Ambrose’s hospital room for fingerprints and interviewed what seemed like the entire town. None of it pointed to Marshall. In any case, he had not yet been found. Maybe, Finn reasoned, the bodyguard had been another poor victim of the fell circumstance that had destroyed his friends.

  No one had been able to contact, or even find, Courtney’s father. Finn wondered if the bastard even knew that his daughter was dead. In the end, the d’Artois family had decided to hold a memorial service for the both of them. It had been a fittingly depressing affair, and Finn knew that Ambrose would have told him not to go. However, he could not bring himself to miss it. He had to say goodbye to his only real friend in the world. So he had sat through the speeches and the prayers. He had talked to all the other souls who had been touched by Ambrose d’Artois and Courtney Rossborough. The sheer number of them had amazed him. He would be happy if anyone showed up to his funeral at all.

  He knew that he would never again hear their voices, nor would he ever see their brilliant smiles in the warm light of the coming summer. Yet they were with him. With their beauty and grace, they had touched the souls of almost all those who had encountered them. They lived in the grieving hearts of the residents of Hastings, and it would be an eternity before they were forgotten. They had not been destroyed, Finn reflected. Not by a long shot.

  “Hey, fatty!” Ronald’s shrill voice shook him from his thoughts. Finn was not in the mood. He glanced briefly at Ronald and his two cohorts before turning away. They were laughing at the taunt as if it were the funniest joke ever made. The sound irked Finn. Especially Ronald’s hyena laugh. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” Ronald called after him. Finn kept walking. “I’m glad he’s dead, you know. He had it coming. Her too. You’re all a bunch of freaks.”

  Finn did not know if it was the words or the smug way in which Ronald delivered them. In any case, he ran at Ronald, faster than he could ever have imagined himself capable of doing. He knocked the shocked bully to the ground and began to kick him savagely, evoking cries of pain that only goaded him to greater efforts. Quickly, however, strong arms grabbed him, pulling him away from the stricken figure. Ronald slowly picked himself up, pointing his finger at Finn accusatorily, “You sucker punched me! You prick! Let’s teach fatty some respect, shall we? Ambrose isn’t here to save you. He won’t ever save you now. You know the funny thing? If he was still with us, he still would’ve done it, even after you betrayed him.”

  Finn strained furiously against his captors, but they held him firmly in place. Finn shouted, “I could take you on one on one. Tell them to let me go.” Ronald only grinned, shaking his head as he approached, fists raised. Finn braced for the pain, hoping that it would at least be over quickly. Ronald was right, Ambrose wasn’t there anymore, and he was alone. Finn stopped resisting. Perhaps what was to come was his punishment for being a horrible friend. He deserved it. He stared into Ronald’s eyes defiantly, gaining some satisfaction when those beady eyes shifted away. Ronald would always be a coward, Finn knew. The whole school knew it. Even Ronald’s friends knew it, even if they would never admit it. In the deepest recesses of his consciousness, past all of the walls of false confidence that he had built to protect himself from that awful truth, Ronald knew it too.

  Suddenly, a whirlwind of movement threw Ronald to the ground. Amos. He was released as Ronald’s friends readied themselves to face the new threat. Dave and Imani had also materialized.

  “Now I’d say it’s a fair fight,” Amos proclaimed, flashing a brilliant smile at his opponents.

  “You can’t win this. I’ll say you attacked us. How would it feel to get expelled just before school ends? Stay out of this,” Ronald laughed weakly from the floor.

  “Then I guess we’d better make it worth it,” Dave snapped. “Have you ever considered not everyone’s as much of a wimp as you? Correction, no one is as much of a wimp as you. Go to hell with your threats.”

  As the boys glared at one another, Imani stepped between them. “Listen, we’re going to make this quick. Jaqueline, Sandra, you’re going to walk away and take Ronnie here with you.”

  “Those aren’t our names,” one of Finn’s friends protested, looking at her angrily.

  “I don’t care. You’re going to do it, or I’m going to tell the whole school that you hit a girl. I wonder how that’ll go for you.”

  “We didn’t... please, just step aside, this isn’t your business,” he nervously objected.

  “Oh, really? Three witnesses to say you did.” Imani raised a fist to her pretty face. Looking at Ronald for emphasis, she added, “Credible witnesses.”

  The two boys exchanged a panicked glance. They knew that if the story took hold, they would become the school’s new punching bags. Laying hands on a girl was the ultimate sin. Quickly, they stepped away, hands raised. They could only look darkly at Imani, understanding that they were in no position to negotiate. “Well, we’ll be off then. Ronald just tripped. Good to see you all!” They picked their friend up and carried him away, ignoring his furious rebukes.

  Finn looked at his saviours, astounded, “Thank you. You totally saved my butt there.”

  Amos looked at him coldly, “We didn’t do it for you. We did it for Ambrose. This doesn’t make us friends.”

  “Well, whatever, still… thanks.”

  “Get up, you should probably get going before they find you alone again,” Imani suggested.

  “Alright, well, see you guys around. Or not. Thanks again,” Finn mumbled, standing, straining to hide the hurt in his voice at their rejection. He walked away, looking behind him as he reached the end of the corridor. Imani and Dave were holding hands, looking at each other in admiration, no doubt gushing about how they had handled the situation as Amos looked on, bemused. Funny, he had always thought Amos, handsome and strong, would end up with Imani. It had just seemed right. In any case, he was happy for Dave and Imani. They made a good couple. They certainly seemed happy.

  He turned away and walked around the corner. Without Ambrose, there truly was nothing left for him in Hastings. He had hurt them by betraying their trust and friendship. There was no coming back from that, not in the few months remaining before high school ended. Finn knew though, that life would go on, and it could only get better now that it had reached its nadir. Even as the years went by, he knew that he would always carry the memory of Courtney and Ambrose in his heart.

  ***

  The d’Artois couple sat at their dinner table on a silent winter night. They would not share their usual cocktail. How could they taste such artificial sweetness when the very real one that had coloured their lives was gone? Richard looked into his wife’s sad, hazel eyes. T
hey had been empty ever since Ambrose passed away. Their Ambrose. Their perfect, beautiful son. His future had been so bright. Richard knew that Ambrose would have made a worthy heir to the d’Artois name. He marvelled at the fickle cruelty of fate. It had finally given them the boy that they had so longed for, only to take him away after a few, short months.

  “Richard, what are we going to do now?” Mercy finally spoke, her voice barely audible.

  “We get on with our lives, my love,” Richard said, trying to sound certain. He did not believe his words, but he had to be strong. For her. “He was our son, and we will never forget him. It hurts, I know. Believe me, I know. We have to move on though, rebuild our lives.”

  “I just don’t know how. We can’t stay here. I can’t stand it anymore.”

  “We’ll sell the house and go back to New York. We can go back to the people we know. They don’t even know about Ambrose; they’ll keep us busy. Or how about a Mediterranean cruise? We can stop by Athens again.”

  “No. I don’t want any of that.”

  “We’ll go wherever you want. Just tell me and I’ll see to it.”

  “I don’t know what I want Richard. I just want to see my son again,” she snapped at him. She soon regretted her harsh tone, seeing a flash of anguish on his face, quickly masked. How could she be so insensitive? He was suffering too. He was just trying to make it better. She reached out a delicate hand to touch his face. “I’m sorry darling. I’m just so lost.”

  “Don’t worry my sweet, I know.”

  “How could I have been such a terrible mother? I didn’t deserve him. The only time I really paid attention to him was when I suspected him of being a criminal. I didn’t support him when that girl got sick. I didn’t even know there was something wrong with her. Why didn’t he tell us? Why, Richard? Why?”

  “Mercy, you were a great mother. You were the best mother any kid could ever ask for, and don’t you ever doubt it,” he assured her. Truly, he had asked himself those questions over and over again. They had kept him awake night after night, lying next to his wife in silence, both pretending to sleep. Neither had wanted to admit the true extent of their suffering to the other.