Destined (Desolation #3)

by Ali Cross

  There’d never be a him without me.

  And it was that part that had me hiding in Mahria’s room.

  He didn’t knock. Before he’d even closed the door behind him the stupid, traitorous tears had already begun to flow down my cheeks. I sat on the corner of the bed, pressed against the wall, trying to hide from the one person in all the worlds I could never hide from.

  He leaned against the door and folded his arms. I forced myself to concentrate on my hands, on the silver swirls on my arms. But of course I noticed how handsome he looked in his gleaming armor, the gauntlets over his arms that emphasized his muscles and the tunic that ended just above his knees. I suddenly wished he wore a T-shirt and jeans. A hoodie and jeans.

  He didn’t speak, and I was glad for it—I didn’t trust my voice to not give my traitorous heart away and right now, I needed him to let me go.

  The day grew long, casting deep shadows across the room. And still he didn’t speak. He didn’t move.

  Nighttime fell over Asgard. Darkness draped over us like a blanket. And in the darkness, in its protective embrace, I finally broke the silence.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The silence stretched away from my words, building upon itself, emphasizing all the in-between time in which Michael did not respond.

  I thought of repeating my apology. I cleared my throat. But no matter how quietly I’d said them, I knew he heard my words, and so I said nothing.

  And he said nothing.

  I woke when the morning light laid a line of warmth against my cheek.

  With a start I looked at the door, terrified he really had left me—but as I came to my senses and realized I could still feel him near, here, I saw him. He sat on the floor, his back against the door, his head tilted to the side. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. I watched his chest rise and fall with the steady rhythm of sleep.

  I stretched out on the bed, my head at the foot of it, my cheek on the back of my hands, and watched him. And thought of what to say. Of whether there was any way back from where we had gone. Where I had gone.

  I must have drifted off again, because when I next woke, I found myself staring directly into Michael’s soft lion eyes.

  The light in the room lit them up until they seemed almost translucent. I could see into his soul through them. Could practically feel the golden flecks of his spirit that floated there, painting me with his love, with tenderness.

  I jerked back, not wanting to go there, to let him love me.

  “Don’t,” he said, and oh. He sounded so tired. So weary.

  “Don’t.” He moved onto his knees and crawled the few feet between us. He put his hands on the edge of the bed, mere inches away from mine. I could feel his heat, smell his warmth, see myself reflected in his eyes.

  I was just a girl. Same as always. But he had to know—I wasn’t the same inside anymore. I’d never be the same. Never be able to forgive myself for the things I had done, the things I’d been willing to do.

  He slowly reached out with his left hand, as if I were a wild bird that might fly away at a moment’s notice—and in a very real way I was. I wanted to fly away. But his eyes held me to him and so I stayed. Gods help me, I stayed.

  “Don’t,” he whispered. “Just . . . please don’t.”

  Don’t leave.

  Don’t push me away.

  Don’t.

  Then his hand was on my cheek, soft at first, a barely-there touch. I closed my eyes, leaned into him. I didn’t want to, but . . . oh, I had to. I had to.

  And then his hand was in my hair and his breath was on my cheek and his words were whispered all over my face, words with kisses, words of love, of forgiveness, kisses of hope, words of forever, kisses given and returned.

  We stood in the wheelhouse, the Bridge to Midgard partially open before us, watching events unfold below. I held tightly to Desi’s hand—I had barely let her go except when absolutely necessary, ever since this morning when we’d found each other again. I could never take her for granted, never give up my post by her side. Not that I thought she was too fragile and might go flying off into the stratosphere at any moment, but because love is precious. It’s the rarest of commodities, and I had fought too long, too hard, to not cherish it and protect it every moment of the rest of my life.

  On the grounds of St. Mary’s beneath us, Fahria shifted her weight. “Well,” she said.

  “Lady.” Longinus stood utterly still, his face unreadable.

  She’ll ask him, Desi said in my mind. She could barely contain her excitement—it was all I could do to convince her to remain quiet so events could unfold without our influence. Though my money was on Longinus. I’d bet he would be the one to ask for Valhalla. We had all learned something about pride. That sometimes, in the name of love, one had to set it aside.

  “I would ask, but I am tired of the answer.” Fahria kept her eyes on Longinus, as stoic and unreadable as he.

  Desi’s shoulders drooped. Dang it Fahria!

  I fought to keep the smile from my lips, focusing on my boots until I regained control. I squeezed Desi’s hand. Fahria and Longinus couldn’t have been better suited for one another, except that nothing would get said between them. Everything of worth hung in the spaces between the words.

  Well, no one more suited than you and I. Even in my mind, Desi’s own words were a whisper, like even now, after everything, she was afraid to suggest that I loved her as much as she loved me. I’d told her a thousand times—and planned to tell her forevermore—that I loved her more. I would always love her more and that was as it should be.

  But then, something different happened. Something changed.

  Longinus took a step toward Fahria. “Ask,” he said.

  Oh Odin, I thought. Let this be.

  Let there be love. Let there be hope.

  “Valiant warrior,” Fahria said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Yes! Desi squeezed my hand, sent me images of her doing the crazy happy dance. I coughed and examined my boot laces again.

  When I thought I’d managed my emotions well enough, I looked up. There stood Fahria, this fierce Valkyrie, stone-faced and unmatched in her dedication to her calling, now trembling with hope, her eyes wide and shining. “Will you take your rest in the eternal halls of Valhalla?”

  Longinus moved closer. Took Fahria’s hands in his own. Hands as calloused as his. As stained with blood as his.

  “Noble lady,” he said. “Will I only be resting?”

  Desi and I faced each other, our foreheads resting on each other as we shared a chuckle. Everyone here knew how this would go—how it had to go. Desi had already promised she’d forgo free will if she had to and exercise her new power as a god to make them make the right choice.

  For a long moment Fahria didn’t answer. I sensed her Valkyrie sisters and the Gardians who had gathered nearby, drawn by the hope that stretched from all our hearts to Fahria and Longinus—a hope that they could finally be free. Finally embrace love over duty.

  Fahria’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile and her beauty shone. Her Halo rose out behind her, her golden light a radiant, living thing. It embraced Longinus as she stepped to him, so close that their bodies pressed together. She kissed him then, and I looked away and into the smiling eyes of the one whom I would die for—again—and the one I would live for, forever.

  Desi’s eyes told me everything I hoped for, everything I hoped for Fahria and Longinus. Yes, even pride could be overcome, even duty would take its place behind love.

  After a moment I turned back and watched while Fahria whispered something into Longinus’ ear and he nodded seriously. “Then I will go with you,” he said.

  Heimdall whipped his horn to his mouth, threw his head back and blew. The sound rang like a golden bell, radiating through my mind, my chest, over all of us assembled there. It called to all the worlds, to all the gods. It rang in our hearts with Heimdall’s wish for them—for this valiant couple who had earned their eternal r
est, who earned the love and adoration of the eternities. Fahria took Longinus’ hand and led him onto the Bridge. His cheeks flamed red and he kept his eyes down, but I noticed he didn’t once let go of her.

  All around us Gardians and Valkyries celebrated. Longinus tolerated the hugs and congratulations that were poured out upon him, his eyes never leaving Fahria. He seemed like a dying man who’d found his oasis—which I knew in a very real way, he had.

  The couple was led to Asgard, but Desi and I stayed behind. When I looked away from the celebrants, I found Desi watching me.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  Before me stood my love, her skin a pearlescent glow, a smile on her lips that I’d dreamt about for eons. Her left hand clasped on and off the hilt of her sword as if she didn’t quite know what to do with it. A beautiful glow lit her cheeks and strands of her black hair fluttered around her face.

  But it was her eyes that drew me in. Her gold-flecked eyes that told me everything I needed to know.

  She was here.

  And she was mine.

  I gathered her into my arms and for a long moment just held her. Just her and me, our arms wrapped around each other, our souls caught up in our intertwined spirits so there was no longer any separation, just us. We were one as we’d never been before, the Genesis within our souls uniting us. I didn’t know how long we stood like that. How long she held me in her Halo, and I held her in mine. We were one. We were complete. And I knew—I knew—we would never be apart again.

  Things were different. Things had changed.

  And that was a good thing.

  When our glory finally faded, when our kisses had slowed and we’d said I love you about a million times, I found we were standing in a hospital room. The lights were dim, but Desi had her own light which radiated outward with a pearly glow. James lay on the bed while Miri sat in a chair next to him.

  My heart rejoiced to see them!

  “Desi!” Miri hissed. “You gotta be careful, ya know. You can’t keep popping in all magical and fairy godmother-like.”

  Desi smiled, a warm blush rising to her pale cheeks while she drew her radiance inward. “I knew you were alone,” she said.

  I squeezed her hand. I had so many questions. But, “How did you know?” could wait.

  “How is he?” She let go of my hand and I felt a tiny twinge of regret, which I ignored. I hadn’t waited a hundred lifetimes to not be okay with waiting a few moments to touch her again.

  “He’s gonna be okay,” Miri said, her voice ringing with happiness. “He might even be able to go home in a day or two. They said he was hypothermic and dehydrated, but his temperature regulated pretty quickly. He hasn’t woken up again, so they don’t know if—”

  Desi placed her hand on James’ forehead and he stirred. His eyes fluttered.

  “James! James!” Miri leapt to her feet. She kissed his forehead and put her hand on his chest. “Wake up, James,” she whispered.

  Desi stepped back and reached for my hand.

  “What did you do?” I whispered.

  She shrugged as she smiled up at me. “I woke him up. He’s always been a sleepyhead.”

  I yanked her to me and wrapped my arms around her waist. “You are full of surprises.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Her smile grew into a Cheshire cat-like grin, then she surprised me by leaning upward and kissing me. It had been a long time since she’d done that. Just been free with me. Just loved me. With nothing between us.

  No doubt.

  No fear.

  Just love.

  The door to the room swung open and a pair of nurses, both wearing hospital scrubs, hurried in. Desi and I stepped out of the way and squished ourselves into the corner of the room while the nurses bustled around James. Miri backed up until she stood against the window, but she watched the activity with joy on her face, her hands in the manner of prayer, pressed to her lips. I heard her whisper a prayer of gratitude and healing and I smiled. It made me glad that she’d kept her faith through all of this, despite everything. A faith that still had a place in the world.

  James cleared his throat and opened his eyes. Miri bounced on her toes, barely restraining herself from flying into his arms.

  “How are you feeling Mr. Mason?”

  “I’d feel a helluva lot better if you’d let my girlfriend kiss me,” he said.

  “Well, there’ll be plenty of time for that real soon, I think,” the nurse said. “Keep this up and you could go home as soon as tomorrow.”

  “Not tonight?” James pled.

  “We’ll see what the doc has to say.” She jotted down some notes in the chart that hung on a hook outside his door, while the second nurse took his blood pressure.

  “120 over 80,” she said to the nurse with the chart. She took the cuff off James’ arm and gave his hand a squeeze. She leaned down close to him. “You’re gonna be just fine, baby.”

  I watched his eyes grow wide with surprise.

  “Lucy?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. Desi squeezed my hand, and the nurse smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Did you see that? Did you hear her? Wha—? Was that—?” James half sat up, staring incredulously from Desi to the door.

  For her part, Desi smiled and gave a half-shrug. She let go of my hand again and stepped forward, pulling one of James’ hands out of Miri’s grasp to hold it in her own. “It’s good to see you, James.”

  “Good to see you too, princess.” But he couldn’t take his eyes off of Miri.

  “Hey, we’ll let you guys . . . you know.” Desi barely concealed her laughter as she took my hand and I pulled open the door.

  “Hey, princess,” James called before we’d closed the door.

  Desi leaned back into the room. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She pulled the door shut and we walked out of the hospital the usual way—one step at a time.

  After a mile of walking hand-in-hand, saying little, we realized it was a really long way back to St. Mary’s. An even longer walk to anywhere else we might want to go. Michael pulled me onto a bus stop bench and put his arm around me.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  I’d been mulling it over since leaving the hospital and still didn’t have a good answer. “With Longinus gone and Cornelius . . .” I didn’t know exactly what had happened, but I knew he no longer lived, could feel his absence in the world around me, could feel the hole he’d left behind. “And Miri is at the hospital.”

  “I know. That’s what I was thinking, too.”

  We fell into silence for a while longer and watched a bus approach from down the street. When it pulled up in front of us, the doors opened. “You gettin’ on?” asked the sour-faced driver.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. She glowered at me, closed the door and drove off.

  “Guess we can’t really sit here all day,” I said.

  “Guess not.”

  “Michael, I—” I looked away. Down the street to the gas station at the next corner. At the auto parts store beside it. At the coffee shop across the street.

  Michael said nothing, but he pulled his arm from around my shoulder and took my left hand in his. He didn’t ask where my markings had gone, how I managed to conceal them. Didn’t ask how my hand was whole.

  “We can’t go back to Asgard,” he finally said and oh I loved him for saving me from saying it.

  “Desi.”

  I still didn’t breathe. “Yeah?”

  Suddenly Michael stood and, with my hand in his, pulled me behind the abandoned store we’d been sitting in front of. When we reached the shadows of the building, he took me by the shoulders so I faced him.

  “I want you to do something.”

  My mind flew a mile a minute trying to guess what he’d ask me. Trying to figure out what he had planned. “Okay.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  So I did.


  He pulled me closer, so close he’d pressed his body against mine. Our arms wrapped around each other and I pressed my cheek to his chest.

  “I want you to think of home. Of the place you were the safest, the happiest. Of the place where you felt the most like you.”

  Asgard, I thought. I pictured the place, pictured our garden nestled in a stand of golden-leaved trees. But then another image took its place.

  “Take us there,” Michael whispered against my hair.

  I took us to the one place in all the worlds I knew I belonged.

  I took us to Lucy’s.

  “I wish Cornelius was here.” I lay in the crook of Michael’s arm, snuggled as close as we could get on Lucy’s white couch. As the sun set, pink hues softened the light in the room, warming it and making it seem like a romantic escape. Which, I guess, it was.

  “So do I,” Michael said. “But what are you thinking?”

  I smiled against his chest. “Because then we could get married.”

  His chest stopped rising with his breath, but his heart beat out a loud staccato against my cheek. “You’re kinda young for that, aren’t you?” His words were strangled, like he was trying to speak without breathing, without disturbing the air around him with his words.

  “Well, that’s why I wish Cornelius was here—he’d know we are both a lot older than we seem. Plus, it would have made him happy.”

  “Our marriage.”

  “Yeah. Don’t you think so?”

  He chuckled, then let out his breath. The rise and fall of his chest resumed its natural rhythm. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “But now we’ll have to wait.”

  He squeezed me. “I would wait a million years for you. Married or not, I will never leave your side again.” He spoke with such fervor, such intensity that tears sprang to my eyes and I didn’t say anything.

  What could I say? After so long I finally had what I wanted and the reality was at least a thousand times better than my dreams.

  I must have drifted off, but was jerked awake by a strange rattling sound.

  “What’s that?” I bolted upward, my head turning this way and that, my sword in my hand before I’d found my feet.