by S. L. Naeole
“Deaths—hundreds of unnecessary deaths—one after the other, that seem to have no cause. I have been away from you because the stink of burnt flesh and decayed corpses is nothing that I ever want to share with you. I have been in the blackest of moods, seeing needless dead, innocents lives extinguished for reasons that I cannot fathom, in wars that until a week ago did not exist, and I did not want to bring that home to you.
“Isis has knowledge of why these events are happening. I brought her here and was planning on keeping her here until she told me the truth about what is going on. These small events are spread out, and seem random and completely unrelated, but I’ve seen enough of the evil of man to know that when something appears to be too random, it’s because it isn’t.
.“And just how were you going to trap her, Robert?”
“By leaving her in here.”
I laughed, his plan so ridiculous it made no sense. “Leave her in your room? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”
“Yes. Yes, I do, because I vowed never to lie to you ever again, and I have kept that vow.”
I wanted to call him a liar, but I couldn’t. Instead I asked him once more how he had expected this Isis person to remain in a room with a wall of windows and a thin wooden door.
“I told you once before that there was another sanctuary in this house. This room, this room is it.”
“This room is a sanctuary?” I laughed once more in spite of myself.
“Try to leave,” Robert said, holding his arm out and pointing to the door. “You could always try to break the window.”
I eyed him suspiciously then turned towards the door, trying once more to open it. Just as it had before, the knob wouldn’t budge. The door that had always felt so flimsy and thin for a house so grand was now like a wall of stone. I turned around and headed towards the windows. I knocked on one large pane of glass, smiling with satisfaction when it returned to me a familiar sound. I reached for the handle to slide it open but it would not move
Knowing that it would take more than just the mere manipulation of a handle to get through the glass, I walked over to the nightstand and grabbed my old lamp. I unplugged it from the wall and coiled the cord around it several times before hurling it towards the far window, closing my eyes when I saw it make contact. The sound of shattering assaulted my ears and I winced, my feet prickling at the familiar crinkle of shards falling, crashing into and onto each other.
Slowly, I opened my eyes, expecting to see the matte view of the outside and instead saw my reflection in the unmarred pane. My lamp lay in pieces on the floor.
“How?” I turned my head to look at Robert, whose face registered only a dim sort of satisfaction.
“I told you. Sanctuary is where one goes to be alone, to be safe. No one can enter without the other’s permission, and no one can leave without it either. I was holding Isis’ hand so that she could walk in here freely. She suspected the same thing you did—that we were coming here to be intimate—but I would rather burn in hell than be with anyone else but you.”
Doubt wouldn’t let go of me, and instead prodded me into asking more questions. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before? I’m your wife—you’re supposed to tell me everything.”
“What could I tell you of the horrors I’ve seen? How could I tell you of the dark suspicions I’ve had when your mind was already so troubled with what happened to Janice?”
“And so you’d rather let me think that you didn’t want me than be honest with me about what you’ve been doing? You thought making me feel rejected and ugly was better?”
He was beside me before the last word had left my lips, his hands on my face, holding it like at any moment, I’d crack between his fingers. “You’re not ugly—you’re not unwanted. My God, Grace, if you only know how much I want to be with you, how hard it’s been to stay away from you, knowing that you were sleeping in my bed, waiting for me.”
“How could I have known?” I cried, suddenly aware of the stream of moisture that had begun to flow down my face. “It’s like some kind of sickness in your family—you don’t talk about anything, and when you do, it’s never the truth. You say you want to be with me but you never are. You never give in, not even when I’m ready to give you everything.”
I pulled myself free from his grasp and returned to the door. “Let me out, Robert.”
“No.”
I turned around to face him, my eyes wide with incredulity. “No?”
“No.”
“Why no?”
“Because right now, the only thing I can think about is what I saw when I entered this room.”
“You want me to put on that hideous thing in exchange for me leaving?”
“No. I was speaking about the look in your eyes, the look that told me you wanted me more than anything else in this world. I couldn’t care less what you were wearing, Grace. In truth, I much prefer you in your regular clothes than in something that leaves nothing to the imagination.”
My words failed me then, because everything that I had feared, every reason that I had come up with as justification for him not wanting to be with me, had just been withered away.
“I like the boxers and the tank tops. I like the old t-shirts and the jeans. And I especially like it when you put on one of my shirts. Those are all you, being who you are. I close my eyes and I still see you on the bed, wearing my shirt and I can’t maintain my solidity.”
I blushed at that statement, remembering that at that moment, he truly hadn’t.
He approached me, his eyes hooded, his mouth tight between his teeth as he reached for me, his intent clear. “I do desire you, Grace. I do want you. I do want to make love to you. Right now.”
His admissions were breaking down the walls of my resistance like a house of cards, and when he lowered his head to press a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, I had all but given in.
“But we can’t.”
And just like that, my heart went cold.
THE LIBERTINE
What is it called when your life has ended but it isn’t over? When you dangle between heaven and hell and both reject you because they have found you unworthy of acceptance?
“God, this is freaking purgatory!”
My head lifted to see the pained expression on the face beside me. The boy, whose eyes were rolling into the back of his head from sheer boredom, had taken to voicing his frustrations now, rather than etch them onto the desk in front of him.
Four weeks had passed, and this was the last day of summer school. It was also the longest day of class—an extra three hours long. We had to take our exit exam, to prove that we had indeed learned everything that was required to receive this final credit, and this exam was the culmination of an entire year of lessons crammed into five long, painful weeks.
For the others, painful merely meant the denial of doing what their friends had been up to. For me, it was the knowledge that the end of this day would bring nothing new. There would be no planning, no vacation, no parties. I would pick up my bag and head home, walk into my room and shut out the world.
The only solace I found was in the quiet moments I shared with Matthew, who had figured out that his little dimpled smile was like a balm to my hurt, and so he gifted me with as many of them as he possibly could. And I found it rather strange that while the others were looking forward to their friends waiting outside, their horns blasting their impatience, I was looking forward to going home and changing diapers and preparing bottles of formula.
Mrs. Deovolente put down her pen and then smiled at us. “You’ve all passed. Congratulations.”
One of the other students jumped up and ran towards the window, shouting to his awaiting friends, “I passed! Woo-hoo!”
Celebratory whistles and the blasting of several horns rang in from outside and I joined in with the others when they smiled and laughed. It was a great feeling, one that I had been starved for, but at the same time, I could not enjoy it as thoroughly as I would have li
ked. When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of our torture, I picked up my bag and waved a sad goodbye to our teacher.
“Grace, wait,” she called out to me.
I turned on a heavy heel and looked at her.
“I know that our last conversation was a bit…uncomfortable, and that I’ve been kind of avoiding you since then, but now that we’re officially no longer teacher and student, I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to do something together—go out for lunch or perhaps dinner?”
This was unexpected. “Mrs. Deovolente, it sounds like you’re asking me out on a date,” I joked.
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh goodness, no. I just think that perhaps you’d like the conversation. I enjoy talking to you and I thought that you did as well…when the topic isn’t so personal, that is.”
Recognition of the need for conversation caused my head to bounce once in acceptance. “When?”
“How about tonight? I’ll take you out for a celebratory dinner at the Olive Branch.”
A month ago, I would’ve thought that tonight would begin the first night of a postponed honeymoon. Instead I was going to be eating dinner at some hole in the wall Greek restaurant with my summer school teacher.
“Alright. Are we going to meet there?”
She nodded and then gave me an apologetic smile. “I’d pick you up but my car is in the shop, so I’ll be taking the bus.”
“No problem,” I told her. “I’ve got my bike.”
“Okay then. So I’ll meet you at seven?”
“That’s fine.”
“See you then!”
I nodded and left, pulling my backpack high up on my shoulders and heading to the bike rack to unlock my bike and head home. But, like a kick in the gut, the only thing that was on the rack was my lock. My bike was long gone.
“Ugh—you pieces of sh-”
I stopped myself before the expletive could escape. “Two bikes in less than a year—this year sucks.” I took one last look at the lock and decided to leave it there. I wasn’t going to bother with it when there was no point in doing so. There would be no new bike—there wouldn’t be any time to ride it.
“Come on, feet,” I told myself before starting the trek home.
I knew I had walked nearly three miles when the sound of footsteps behind me caused me to turn around. Lem stood in my shadow, a sheepish look on his face, his shoulders bunched up around his ears as his hands were held out to his sides, as if to say he had no choice.
“You don’t have to walk behind me,” I muttered.
“I know, but if people saw me walking with you, they might say something and then you’d have to explain it to N’Uriel, because he wouldn’t take my word for it.”
I frowned at his insinuation, and then shook off the troubling thoughts; my feet pushing me forward once more. “If people saw me walking with you, they’d simply think you’d lost a bet or something.”
“Well, it is kind of why I’m here,” he replied shamefully.
“What?” I stopped and turned around.
“Some of us made a bet as to whether or not you’d stick it out for the full five weeks. I admit that I didn’t believe you would, and so I’m here, stuck on guard duty again for the next few days.”
I should have been offended. I had never given up on anything before in my life. Not until Robert. He was the only reason I’d ever found to quit anything. And now, all I felt was a grim sadness that was always there, lurking behind whatever emotion I would shove up to the forefront to mask what I so desperately needed to stay hidden, if only to keep the charade going long enough to keep my friends and family safe.
“Well, I think that if I had known about the bet, I would have wagered against me, too,” I admitted. “And since when did angels gamble? Aren’t you guys supposed to be able to see the future and all that crap?”
He sucked in his bottom lip as his head tossed from side to side. “Only a select number of us have that ability, and those that do rarely share it with the rest of us. You can guess fairly quickly that those of us that wagered do not possess that ability.”
This brought another question to my lips. “How many of you are there? Watching out for me, I mean.”
His eyebrows rose and his head ticked as he counted in his head the names of those who had volunteered to look out for me. “There are thirteen of us in total. N’Uriel, Ameila, Lark, Sera, and myself make up the main group that oversee your safety, but then there are others, lesser angels who have no call but who would not see an innocent human be harmed by one of us who does.
“And you’re now stuck looking after me for the next few days.”
“Yes,” he grumbled. “It’s not that I do not enjoy it—you are quite a funny creature, very emotive and frank—but I have other pursuits that I will have to put on hold while I am here with you. And, if I may be frank as well, I hold a bit of resentment towards N’Uriel for not seeing to your welfare himself now that things have calmed down for him somewhat.”
He started walking ahead of me, and I hurried to keep up. “What do you mean, things have calmed down.”
“I’m sure he’s told you about the troubles abroad. It’s been all over your human news—wars, infighting, political coups. The number of casualties had grown exponentially over the past few weeks, but things are dying down now. The blood lust that once consumed your kind no longer has its place here. It’s a rather refreshing piece of news, actually.”
As I followed mutely behind Lem, my feet shuffling along the concrete, I tried to figure out why Robert hadn’t made some kind of attempt to see me, to talk to me if he was no longer so occupied. That last night at his home, he promised that when he finally had the freedom to do so, he’d come for me and make up for all that he’d done wrong.
I’d wanted to believe him, but when it came to Robert’s promises, I was finding them to be thin, veiled and wholly unreliable. It wasn’t that he was lying to me; it was more that he simply couldn’t live up to everything that he wanted to do and be. And again, that left me feeling shallow and overcome with depression.
“Lem, what do you think of Robert?”
“What do I think of him? I think he’s a young angel trying to take on far too much. He feels an overwhelming responsibility to you, and to your family, when in truth the only responsibility he has is to humanity, which I can tell you demands far less than you do.”
My feet halted, and I scowled at his back. “Excuse me?”
“Humanity doesn’t need our love, Grace. It doesn’t need to know we exist and that we are here for it in order for it to continue. You, on the other hand, are a demanding mistress. You need and want and desire everything that you cannot have, and in trying to give that to you, you put a strain on N’Uriel’s sense of duty. Had he listened to his call, you’d be dead and he’d be free. Instead, he listened to your thoughts, he listened to your heart, and he chose instead to answer them.
“I do not think that he made the wrong choice—what angel wouldn’t risk it all for love—but what has loving Robert cost you? What would living without him cost? Nothing. Had the two of you never met, had you never crossed paths, he would have never received his call, and you’d have lived a full, rich life, dying an old woman, and he’d have maintained his ability to heal others, the one thing he truly enjoyed above all others.
“He would have found love with one of his own kind, or several of them if he so wished it. He would not have felt an obligation to remain faithful to them, or to control his needs and his desires while with them the way he has to with you.”
He had stopped walking several paces in front of me, his back ramrod straight, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. He wore a sport coat over a light and crisp blue shirt that he had not tucked into the waistband of the dark pants. When he turned to face me, I was awestruck at just how handsome he looked, and I scolded myself silently for that because he shouldn’t be. Not to me. And especially not saying what he was saying.
“A
ngels are meant to be with other angels. We’re not meant for toying with humans, or loving them,” he said with heavy voice. “And when we do, when we find ourselves falling for them, we suffer ten-fold what any human could. We have to refrain from acting on our instincts, and those of us who have yet to receive our wings have to refrain from the greed of feeling what our bodies refuse to allow.”
He walked towards me and tilted his head slightly, his hair falling behind him like a cape shifting open, the slash of red and dark mixing together.
“We cannot touch, we cannot feel, we cannot love. You humans are so breakable, so fragile and yet so willing that it makes it all too easy to destroy you with a single touch, a single thought. For some, the challenge is worth it.
“For others, it’s a nightmare, and one that many of us cannot understand. Why put yourself through that kind of misery? Why allow such a thing to happen when there are others who will gladly allow you to allay your stresses, your needs, your wants, your desires on them?
“But I am not one of them. I see what N’Uriel sees in you. Perhaps I see more of it because I know where it comes from. You have your mother’s eyes, and your mother’s spark, and if I were the one you had chosen, I would never leave your side.”
His words did strange things to me, and I struggled to fight them off even as I replayed them over and over in my head. He wasn’t speaking out of turn; he wasn’t saying anything that was inappropriate or unwelcomed, so why did I feel guilty? Why did I feel like something very wrong was going on here? I needed to direct my mind elsewhere.
“You loved my mother very much, didn’t you?” I asked, the squeak in my voice a noticeable annoyance.
“I did more than love her. I desired her. I wanted her more than I wanted my dreams, and when we came together to create our son, it was the culmination of every single one of my desires. The aftermath was less than pleasant, as I learned soon after that she did not view our coupling as anything other than our duty to our kind, but I always held out hope that she’d return to me.”
When my breath caught in my throat, I realized that I felt badly for him. He understood—probably better than anyone—how I felt about Robert, but he didn’t have a chance to make things right between him and my mother. And, even if he did, I wouldn’t want him to. My mother had loved my father. She had loved him with so much conviction that she gave up her entire history to be with him. She would eventually give up her life for that, and that was something that I couldn’t see Lem doing for her.
