“I’m really useless.”
“I could easily disagree.”
I raised my head to face him. I’d completely forgotten about his keen sense of hearing. And, although I was sure I should be mad at him for his sudden interference, the truth was that bubbles of pure happiness were floating inside me. Because he was here! He hadn’t simply disappeared. And I hadn’t dreamt last night. However, I was still far from being willing to admit to any of that, and so I looked away and folded my arms frowning.
“Why did you interfere?” I asked.
“You don’t know Alexander when the matter is Jonathan. He wasn’t joking,” he replied turning to return home and I followed his steps, keeping a safe distance that would allow me to keep control over my own body.
“Even so! I could easily have dealt with it!”
“He would’ve killed you in heartbeat, before allowing that boy to die.”
I stood silent for a moment, swallowing hard. As much as I wanted to contradict him, I knew that was the real truth. I’d seen it, too, in that cold depersonalized expression.
“If Jonathan is so important to him, how can he make him suffer like that!” I demanded and he sighed, slowing down his pace.
“You probably won’t believe me even if I tell you,” he muttered, as if thinking out loud, but still kept going. “I suppose that boy told you that Alexander is to blame for the situation he’s in? It’s to be expected, since he doesn’t know any better. But the real story is very far from what he thinks is real.”
“What do you mean? I saw the marks on his body! And how much he fears Alexander. I’m sure it’s the curse that makes him suffer like that!”
“I didn’t say Jonathan wasn’t cursed. The red lines all over his body are proof of that. However, the boy thinks that Alexander was the one to put the curse on him.”
“And he wasn’t?” I saw him shake his head, his black hair, now short again, accompanying the movement ever so gracefully.
For an instant I couldn’t help stare at him, walking in front of me like he used to when we went to school. The elegant way he moved, his steps completely silent as if he were floating, not walking, his back straight and the way his hair caressed his neck at the back of his head. All those details … and how, unknowingly, I’d missed them all!
“Sigweardiel was Jonathan’s Guardian, an angel as you call them. However, Guardians can only protect Humans against Deiwos. They are not allowed to intervene or influence the lives of Humans in any way. Sigweardiel told me a lot about the Guardians’ missions and the Law that binds them. Jonathan thinks his falling was a result of the curse, but he is wrong. Sigweardiel fell because he went against the Law and interfered in the life of a Human Being, saving him instead of allowing him to be destroyed.”
“Jonathan?” I guessed, unsure.
“Yes. He suspended that boy’s life; how he did it I can’t really tell. It’s something no Deiwos can do. From what I gathered from his words, it’s as if he grabbed the Human life inside Jonathan and put it away, keeping it safe. However, in order to keep his body from dying, it’s required that another life should inhabit it. And so he shared his own life with the boy. And it’s over that life that the curse has its effect, destroying it piece by piece. And so, from time to time, when there’s little life left inside Jonathan, these crises appear and Sigweardiel has to pass a bit more of his own life into his body.”
“But if that’s so, doesn’t Alexander’s life ever end?” I asked, confused.
“It will, eventually. Although we all have considerable long lives, at the speed he’s burning through his, I’m sure he will end up depleting it. But Sigweardiel hopes to break the curse before that happens. His sole objective is to return Jonathan to his Human life so that he may follow his path as it should have happened.”
“I don’t understand!” I was confused, but sure he wouldn’t be compromising enough to give me any further explanations. “I thought dying was part of being Human. I understand it may be sad, parting ways, but doing all this just to stop him from dying? Making him go through all this pain? Only because Alexander doesn’t want to see him leave? It’s hardly fair!”
“You would be right if Jonathan’s curse would only destroy his life,” he replied, surprising me by continuing our conversation. “Had that been the case, Sigweardiel wouldn’t have done what he did. However, his curse also threatens his Soul. This curse was designed to break the body and through the body break his life, and through his life break his Soul. If that curse is allowed to have its full effect, his whole being will be destroyed.”
“And it’s expected that a Guardian would allow such a thing?” I wanted to know, perplexed at the notion, and his sarcastic laughter filled my ears.
“That’s exactly what I asked him when he told me all this. After learning a bit more about the Merifri and their laws, I concluded we’re not all that different. In fact, the only difference is that they’re cruel under the pretext of doing good. We are a bit more honest than that,” he added a little smugly. I thought it best not to mention Jonathan had told me the same thing just a few moments ago.
“So, if it wasn’t a Deiwos that cursed him, was it a Human Being?” He nodded, which further stunned me. “How? Why?”
“Deiwos and Merifri aren’t the only ones hungry for power. And the Soul of a Human Being like Jonathan can be put to a good use in many different ways, even by Humans.”
I stood silent for a moment.
A Human Being like Jonathan ... like me. I felt that addition implicit in his voice. After all, what other reason could had led him to spare my life if not for the mysterious power they all believed I had?
I raised my head internally proud of myself for not feeling miserable at the recollection of my position in all that.
“If that’s how it is, why doesn’t he tell him the truth? Jonathan doesn’t know what really happened, and judges him wrongly. He feels betrayed because he trusted Alexander. And that only makes him suffer even more.”
“I don’t understand human’s feelings all that much,” he admitted, lowering his head slightly. “But, when I asked him that, Sigweardiel just told me that it was better if the boy were to hate him. That hatred would give him strength to live. He seems to think the truth will only make the boy more depressed and that he’d end up feeling it’s not worth fighting to stay alive.”
“It was someone he knew,” I guessed, feeling sorry for him, and he stopped for a moment to stare at me over his shoulder with an intrigued expression.
“Does that matter?”
“A lot.” He seemed to ponder on that for a moment.
“It was his father.”
“Treason is always harder to accept when it comes from someone of our own blood,” I lamented. “Especially so when it’s someone who should have protected us.”
“I don’t understand,” he said and resumed walking, and I felt sorry for him as well. I recalled what Alexander had told me about his childhood. Of course he couldn’t understand. “Anyway, this war didn’t help either. Because of the situation we’re in, Sigweardiel had to suspend his search for a counter-curse and dedicate himself completely to keeping the both of them alive. Even so, from all the Merifri I know, he’s the only one who’s managed to keep so many of his original characteristics for so long. They tend to disappear, as they keep living as Mazzikin. It’s really annoying. In the end it’s almost as if he’s still an Iaidon, only his wings changed color.” I couldn’t help smile because he wasn’t being honest at all. The truth was he was glad Alexander kept most of his original self intact. “Most Mazzikin that survive the fall are utterly cruel and selfish.”
“I guess that’s mainly due to the fact that he was given to you, and not some other Deiwos. You helped him keep his objectives alive,” I said and he stopped, making me stop as well.
I realized what I’d just said, and how my words sounded as a compliment. That had hardly been my intention, I told myself, stubbornly.
“H
e told you that?” he asked in a low whisper and only then did I understand the real implications of what I’d just said. Talking about those kinds of things made me remember other more sordid details I’d rather forget.
“He told me a bit of how you met,” I answered carefully. With some satisfaction I noticed we were almost home, which would probably mean a graceful change of subject.
“I didn’t help him at all,” he said. “Helping implies giving something. And Deiwos don’t give. I just didn’t feel like destroying someone clearly weaker than me. You can say I spared his life on a whim. He was obviously different and I wanted to learn more about his nature and about the Merifri, whom we only normally meet in a battlefield.”
I smiled again. What was that about Deiwos being honest? Not honest at all! And yet, attitudes like that made him seem surprisingly Human, proof of an immature pride, of someone who tried too hard to look like someone he was not.
“That curiosity of yours, was that also why you spared Lea?” I asked, unable to resist, and he stopped again, making me muffle my laughter, which I immediately disguised when he turned to face me, looking slightly annoyed.
“It would seem Sigweardiel talks too much about things that are none of his concern!” He grumbled and I couldn’t help smile, which seemed to disturb him.
“Can I open the door?” I asked, pointing to the door he was blocking just by standing there, and Gabriel looked back, ending up stepping aside too quickly for the usual slow movements he always forced on himself in my presence.
I smiled again, amused with his clear confusion, and went to open the door. However, as soon as I stepped in, the heavy oppressing air inside made me take a sharp breath. I left my coat on the hanger by the door and went straight to the stairs.
“Mari! Where are you going?”
“Upstairs, to check on Jonathan,” I answered but had to slow down once I reached the stairs, my ribs aching with all those sudden movements.
“You really shouldn’t go.” I stopped midway and looked back. He’d remained at the base of the stairs, his violet eyes slightly glowing among the shadows that surrounded him. “It’s not something you’ll like to see. You’ll probably won’t be able to understand.”
I pointedly ignored his warning and climbed up the rest of the steps. I stopped outside the door, hesitating to open it, and easily recognized Jonathan’s voice in the muffled moans that reached me. Slowly, like a child that knows she’s doing something wrong, I turned the handle and let it open only enough to see inside and, for a split second, I didn’t know what I was seeing, at least until all the pieces got put together in my brain. I covered my lips with one hand, hiding my shocked exclamation, and yet was unable to turn away.
Alexander was sitting on the bed, Jonathan on his lap, turning to him, almost as if they were lovers. I could easily see the naked skin of his back, marred by all those cruel red lines. The strength with which he held on to Alexander, his arms wrapped around his neck, made me blush. Alexander seemed to be kissing his bare chest, his dark-red hair completely disheveled, as if I really stood before some passionate scene. It took me some time to notice the small dagger stained with blood he held in one of his hands and I held my breath when I saw him raising it. Carefully, and with a deep expression of pain, I watched as he cut one of the red lines across Jonathan’s chest and, when he placed his lips over the recently opened wound, I thought I’d already intruded too much in that space that clearly belonged only to the two of them.
I went back downstairs, careful to be as silent as possible, and went to the living room, feeling slighted depressed. How often would they have to go through that to keep Jonathan alive?
I stopped by the door and, in just a split second, all my previous thoughts and cares evaporated. Gabriel had undressed his shirt and was unwrapping his bloodied bandages, the ones that I’d put in place just last night.
“What are you doing!?” I finally managed to ask, hoping I sounded angry enough, and he raised his head to face me.
“Lea told me you did this,” he calmly observed.
“And why does that matter? You shouldn’t even be walking around!” I remarked, half despairing before his puzzled expression. I’d been so worried about Jonathan’s problems that I’d completely forgotten about just how serious his injury was. Once again my life was like a war zone, constantly bombed by every side, as my mind struggled to deal with everything at the same time.
“It was nothing serious,” he replied, unconcerned, which irked me more than it should.
Nothing serious! How was he able to say something like that to my face! I still hadn’t been able to erase the image of all that blood from my mind, and of his mortally pale face as he mumbled delirious words no one had been able to understand. For a moment, last night, I really believed he wouldn’t survive! And I was positive that any Human Being in his place had been dead somewhere before dawn.
Before I could argue, or scold him any further, the bandages were in a pile on the floor. I watched as he also got rid of the gauzes, looking down at his own chest with a curious expression. He pressed his own red skin along the suture, making me cringe, and nodded appreciatively.
“Almost good.”
I just couldn’t stop staring at him. In truth, although his skin was still stained with blood, the black stitches standing out like a sore thumb, the huge gash seemed completely healed. The ease with which he pressured it and touched it was proof enough of that. And on his chest, over the place where his heart should beat, I couldn’t help notice the deformed red blotch, which the symbol of our Contract had become. I thought it had been gone forever and, knowing it was still there, even deformed as it was, strangely made me feel more at ease.
“These things are itching,” he complained, ferociously scratching the stitches and I almost jumped.
“Stop that!” I blurted out and was even more surprised when he obeyed, looking at me inquisitively.
“Then what? Will I have to have these things on me forever?” He sounded annoyed again and I realized he hadn’t the slightest idea of what surgical stitches were.
“The things Lea got for me. Where are they?”
“I put them in there,” he replied, pointing to a cupboard and I entered the room, going around the table in order to keep the distance between us. I got hold of my magically acquired utensils, filled the aluminum basin with distilled water and grabbed the rest of the cotton pads, along with the scissors, tweezers and, just in case, the bottle of rubbing alcohol.
“Sit there.” I pointed the chair on the other side of the table and he stared back at me for a brief moment, before obeying once again, his steps ever so slow and carefully measured while blatantly keeping an eye on me, probably expecting some kind of panicky reaction.
Trying to stop my hands from shaking so much, and grabbing the things I’d gathered, I told myself there was no reason why I shouldn’t be able to do this! After all, I’d practically spent the whole night beside him. I had taken care of him and I had been close enough to touch him ... even to hug him. And so I stepped determinedly towards him. My heart immediately jumped to a frenzy, the trembling of my hands taking over the rest of my body. I stopped for a moment, making sure I kept breathing, and checked all the things I’d gathered, afraid I’d end up dropping something.
“Mariane.” His voice broke through my uneasiness, slightly calming me down, and I looked up at him. “You don’t need to do this.”
I frowned, annoyed at his condescending tone, and took another step, and then another, towards him. With a victorious feeling I finally sat down in front of him, although I couldn’t stop shaking, and smiled proudly at his expression of disbelief.
“Close enough?” I asked with a smug smile. “How did you think I managed to stitch you up?” I went on, my voice was still shaky, no matter how much I tried to make it sound strong and decided. Awkwardly enough I couldn’t help noticing how his eyes looked even brighter, intimidating and intense from up close, and so I focused my atten
tion on the task at hand. “Please stay still, now.”
I drenched a cotton pad in distilled water and leaned forward. I softly pressed my shaky hand against his skin, cleaning the dried blood, a prickling feeling coursing from the tips of my fingers up to my elbow, almost as if the air around him was charged with electricity. And yet, this was not an impossible task to accomplish, I mused with a strange feeling of happiness. He kept completely motionless all through the process, so much so that I was having difficulties noticing if he was still breathing at all.
As I cleaned his skin, the state of his injury became clearer. All that was left from the vicious gash that had cut him from side to side was the dark, irregular line formed by the stitches. No swelling, no redness, or even purple areas. His skin was as white and perfect as it had always been.
“The black lines must be first cut and then pulled carefully,” I told him, trying hard to resist the temptation of placing my hands flat on his chest. Seeing him so up close still made me wonder if he was as hard and cold as he seemed. “But it’s best if I’m not the one to do it.” I pulled away under the pretext of closing the distilled water bottle. My hands were suffering from the destructive effects of his proximity and my whole body was shaking, even though I was trying my best to keep it under control. Trying to perform such a delicate task that involved a pair of scissors and cutting so close to someone’s body was surly not the best of ideas.
“I don’t mind,” I heard him whisper and raised my head. He smiled, making me dizzy for a moment, and then closed his violet eyes, returning to that statue state of his. “I promised I won’t move an inch.”
I blinked, still dazed. I’d never been so close to him while keeping such a clear state of mind and, while that made me feel all proud and self-reassured, it also made me aware of an infinity of other small details that I’d never noticed before.
His dark eyelashes were incredibly long, casting soft bluish shadows on his perfect white skin. His thin lips could have been drawn, its contours absolutely perfect and, although he was serious now, their corners still crooked slightly upward, giving him an innate treacherous expression. The bangs of hair falling over his forehead concealed his thin, slightly arched eyebrows, and I had to concede that they were probably the point of his physiognomy that made him look so ... not Human.
Blood of the Pure (Gaea) Page 49
