Falling into Forever

by Tammy Turner

  Men, she thought, perching herself on the sink. Twenty text messages from Taylor waited.

  Each message was the same: “Call me,” Alexandra read aloud. The phone searched for a signal when she dialed the number. “No signal,” she sighed.

  Callahan’s footsteps pounded back down the staircase. Even so, when his fist pounded on the door, Alexandra was startled. Her phone slipped from her hands, smashing apart on the tile floor.

  “Can you open the door?” he asked frantically.

  “Hold on,” she said, kneeling to search the dark tile for the plastic pieces. From under the door came the scent of warm apple pie.

  “Are you baking?” she asked, unlocking the door.

  “The scent is apple spice,” he explained sheepishly, holding a glass jar toward her face, their eyes meeting in the candlelight. “I couldn’t find anything else in the dark.”

  “Delicious,” she said. Her stomach growled loudly.

  “Was that you or the storm?” Callahan joked while thunder rumbled outside the house.

  “Let me see that,” she said, reaching her hand out for the candle. She stooped to the ground. The battery and case lay beside each other behind the toilet. “Yuck,” she moaned, her hands shaking madly as she snapped the pieces of the phone back together.

  “It looks like power is out all along the street,” Callahan called from the living room window. “Whatever we saw across the street is gone for now, too,” he tried to reassure her. “I’d like to look a bit closer, though, to be sure of it.”

  Standing in the bathroom doorway, Alexandra shoved the phone in her skirt pocket. “You’re not leaving me alone,” she ordered him when she saw him place his hand on the front door knob. The floor beams beneath their feet shook in the thunder.

  Callahan cracked the door ajar and hovered at the threshold while the wind and rain battered against the house. “I believe your car window is open,” he said, turning his head to Alexandra. “Shall I go out there and close it, Miss Peyton? I’d hate for it to get soaking wet.”

  “Go outside?” she asked stepping from the bathroom. “Are you crazy? A little bit of rain isn’t going to hurt that piece of junk.” Alexandra watched helplessly while he placed a leg onto the porch.

  “Don’t go,” she yelled lunging toward the door. “Don’t leave me alone.”

  Here we go again, the thought flittered through her head when her foot found a puddle of water on the slick wooden floor, and her legs collapsed beneath her.

  Crumpled in a sobbing ball, Alexandra buried her face in her hands.

  “Look at me,” Callahan said, kneeling down beside her.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, her cheeks burning.

  “Miss Peyton, we need to get you home. This storm will eventually die down. I’ll call a taxi and ride with you, to make sure you get there safely. Everything is going to be okay.”

  His hand stroked the back of her damp hair.

  “Thank you, Callahan,” she gushed, raising her sad, green eyes to his concerned face.

  Rising to his feet, Callahan helped her up from the wet floor. “The weather is only getting worse out there,” he said, as thunder echoed through the rooms.

  “I’ve never seen a storm like this,” she said, nodding, while high above their heads, from the direction of the attic, a tremendous thump shook the house.

  “What was that?” they asked, turning to each other, their eyes trailing up the steep, darkened staircase.

  “Did a tree limb just fall on the roof? Or is there something in the attic?” Alexandra asked breathlessly.

  “Don’t panic,” he mustered.

  “But I heard—” she tried to speak, but Callahan threw his hand across her mouth.

  “Shhh,” he whispered, holding a finger to his lips. “Let me listen.” His eyes darted over the ceiling as the house shook. “It sounds as if someone is leaping around on the roof.”

  Alexandra squealed.

  “The bathroom,” he said, ordering her back under the stairs. “Lock it,” he insisted through the heavy wooden door. Crouching on the floor, Alexandra quivered as she heard Callahan’s footsteps racing up the staircase.

  The candle burned on the vanity, throwing distorted shadows against the walls around her. The small, enclosed room filled rapidly with a sickeningly sweet apple scent. Alexandra clutched her rumbling stomach and snatched her cell phone out of her skirt pocket. One signal bar popped up on the screen, along with a new text message from Taylor.

  “Finally,” she muttered. “Ben and I are coming to get you,” Alexandra read. She shook her head. Coming here? How? She pressed the phone hard against her face.

  Ring. Ring. The irritating buzzes echoed through her head.

  “What do you want?” Taylor’s voicemail answered. Just at the same time, the old house shuddered loudly around her. Terrified, Alexandra could not answer because her voice was frozen in her throat. Hanging up, she quickly tried the number again, but the signal bar had abandoned her.

  What am I going to do? On the countertop, the candle flickered with each heavy sigh of her breath.

  Dropping the phone back into her pocket, Alexandra caught her reflection in the mirror. Deep shadows cut across her tired face. She rubbed her stinging eyes and splashed cold water from the faucet across her cheeks.

  “Why can’t I hear Callahan?” she asked aloud, her voice echoing in room.

  She suddenly heard a voice call her name, and it wasn’t Callahan.

  Alexandra!

  She jumped backward from the sink.

  It repeated: Alexandra!

  She blew out the candle, a chill running down her spine. Curls of smoke filled her nostrils. She pressed her ear to the door, checking the lock again to be sure she had turned it as Callahan had told her to do.

  Alexandra! the voice said again.

  “Who are you?” she asked aloud inside the dark room, her eyes darting back and forth. “What do you want from me?” The empty room merely swallowed her cries. Fear gripped her chest; her lungs panted for air.

  The voice dripped from the walls, clinging to Alexandra’s body and drowning her heart in terror. It said, I will tell you everything. Please come to me.

  Her fingers fumbled with the lock, finally flinging the door wide open to the empty hallway. Lunging from the room, she felt fresh air flooding her chest. A couple of stories above her head, a door slammed and faint footsteps ran across a wooden floor. Huddling against the front door, she pressed her ear to the wood and listened. The rain still pounded against the porch roof. In the distance, the siren of a fire engine blared louder and louder as it neared Callahan’s quiet street.

  The voice found her again. Alexandra, it coaxed.

  Her chest cramped, aching for air. “Where are you?” she yelled helplessly.

  The footsteps on the floor above her grew louder. Her hand gripped the doorknob, and her fingers slowly unlocked the bolt.

  Hurry, the voice whispered in her ear.

  She threw open the front door. The wind blasted the wooden siding, and sheets of rain violently hit the street.

  A fire engine raced down the street, its horn blasting. The flashing red lights illuminated the front of the house as it passed. In their haste, none of the firefighters noticed Alexandra running from the house into the storm-soaked street. They raced on their way, oblivious to her nightmare.

  Standing on the street, Alexandra let the rain fall hard on her body. “Here I am,” she shouted, turning her face to the sky. Raising her arms high above her head, she shouted into the night, “Come and get me.”

  18

  Wings

  Crouching underneath Callahan’s porch, the snarling beast flared his nostrils as the storm’s howling wind blew Alexandra’s scent into his face. The thick, brown fur upon the ridge of his spine raised as his bulging muscles tensed for a strike.

  From his muzzle, a low growl escaped into the night. Alexandra turned her rain-soaked face toward the porch, fighting the mist
y rain to judge his distance. Stretching his paws and arching his back, the wolf howled with anticipation.

  She could not look to Callahan to help her. Callahan was in the stairwell to the attic. He climbed toward the top step, while above his head he heard the sound of scratching mingle with the echo of thunder and heavy rain.

  “What madness has befallen us?” he shouted into the darkness. The steps seemed to sway beneath his feet.

  Steadying himself against the wall, he dropped the flashlight. He saw its beam flicker and bounce down the narrow stairwell behind him. As he twisted around, Callahan felt the left heel of his leather shoes slip against the tail of his cape. He fell, tumbling down the stairs. The sharp edge of each step stabbed his back. Finally he landed with a thud on the landing below, next to the flashlight. Grasping clumsily for the light, he heard the scratching sound once more on the roof. He pointed the beam on the attic door at the top of the stairs.

  Again on his feet, pain seared through his left ankle. “Let’s try this over,” he said aloud, resting his foot gingerly on the first step. But he never got up the stairs in time to see what was so noisy on the top of the house.

  If Callahan would have made it to the roof of the old Victorian, he would have seen a solemn figure standing on the roof’s peaked ridge, as steady as a bird perched on a wire.

  “Destiny,” the figure on the roof called into the rain. “This is why I am still alive.”

  Below in the road, Alexandra stood alone. Then the wolf abruptly leapt into the yard, his paws striking the muddy ground on his way to the street. Alexandra froze, seeing the massive wolf racing straight for her.

  She recognized the hungry glint of his fiery eyes. The mongrel from the parking lot at school, she thought. Why did I think I could face him? In only a few seconds, he would be upon her. She saw the Jeep parked at the curb, but she realized that Callahan had the keys. Hoping it wasn’t locked, she sprinted for the Jeep’s door.

  But it was too late. The wolf pounced on the hood of the car. The beast snarled, frothing at the mouth, watching his prey tremble. She smelled the pungent odor of his wet, musky fur. Alexandra closed her eyes, wishing for a miracle.

  Help me, she cried silently in her head.

  High above them on the top of the house, the silent figure arched his back, rage burning in his chest. “If only I could, I would die for you,” he shouted as he spread his arms wide from his sides and bent his knees. With eyes wide open, he leapt from the roof into the rain, wings rising from his back.

  The wolf reared on his haunches and swiftly pounced from the hood of the Jeep, landing at Alexandra’s feet. “What do you want from me?” she moaned. His answer was to thrust at her neck with his jaws. The beast’s hot, putrid breath stirred the fight smoldering within her. She clawed at the wolf’s frothing muzzle and beat her hands against his massive head. He grabbed her hair in his mouth. Quickly dragging her to the gutter, he dropped her head, and her skull slammed against the pavement. Consumed with fury, the wolf ripped at her shirt and stripped the medallion away from her neck, hooking it in his teeth. Leaving her limp in the gutter, he bounded toward the cemetery wall.

  But the wolf didn’t get far. As he jumped over the stones, a fist yanked his tail and sent him soaring back into the street. Struggling to his four feet, he was slammed by a kick to his ribs. Panting hard, he bared his teeth. The wolf snapped his jaws as a hand reached for the medallion dangling from his mouth.

  “Give me that,” said the winged figure, standing over the wolf. The wolf’s fur melted away to reveal naked human skin.

  The rain pelted down.

  “Shape shifter,” hissed the winged figure.

  The bruised and bloody man spat the medallion from his mouth into the gutter beside him. “What are you?” he shouted at the winged figure looming over him.

  “Your reckoning,” the figure said, raising his fist over the man.

  “Not yet,” the man said, as he rose on his haunches. “Dat girl a thief,” he said, pointing a long, bony finger at Alexandra, motionless in the gutter, water swirling around her.

  “You fool!” hissed the figure, as he went to kneel beside her. His wings folded into his back and disappeared into his flesh under a ripped and faded black t-shirt.

  “You da fool,” cried the shape shifter as he rose to his bare feet. He leapt past the kneeling figure and headed toward the cemetery wall. As he sailed into the air, his skin changed back into thick, brown fur.

  Bounding hastily over the wall, the wolf sprinted into the dark, wet shadows of the cemetery. He ran deep into a bank of magnolia trees, stopping to recover his breath. The girl’s scent lingered in his nostrils; and turning his nose into the wind, he sucked in the smell greedily. Her sweat and blood taunted his desperation.

  His beaten body morphed at his will, shape shifting back into the form of a man. As a human, he still was as wild as an animal, with the desire to rip flesh from bone. Clutching his chest, he heaved in violent spasms from his broken ribs.

  “Mine,” he spat, sniffing the air. Hunger and desire growled in his belly. Examining his bloody wounds, he hissed, his tongue tasting the air while he willed his body to spasm and shape itself once again into a wolf.

  19

  Retreat

  Hearing Alexandra’s screams outside, Callahan struggled down the stairs and out to the porch. Across the street, a figure knelt over Alexandra and held her head tenderly in his arms. Callahan hobbled toward them.

  “Grab the necklace,” the figure’s deep voice yelled at Callahan.

  Immediately Callahan searched in the gutter on his hands and knees in the pouring rain, hoping to recover the medallion before it washed into the drain. Finding it, he studied the etched metal. The illustration of a dragon man came into view on the pendant, and the metal felt warm nestled in his palm.

  “The Dragon King,” Callahan muttered. “Iselin’s medallion is real?”

  “Are you so shocked?” the raven-haired man asked, holding Alexandra’s limp body against his chest.

  “My occupation does not allow me the indulgence of disbelief, but I am most certainly in awe,” Callahan explained, nodding his head as a fierce howl echoed from the cemetery.

  “That filthy wolf was waiting under the porch,” the raven-haired man told Callahan as he stroked Alexandra’s cheek. “He is clever for a shape shifter, and this attack is my fault.” He stared down at Alexandra. “I should not have underestimated his determination. He has been following her for several days, and I shall never forgive myself for not destroying him sooner.”

  Callahan contemplated the man’s regal square jaw and azure eyes. “What does the wolf want with her?” Callahan asked.

  “If I knew that, she would not be lying in this gutter,” the raven-haired man admitted. Then he shouted toward the cemetery, “Death awaits you, coward!”

  The rain dripped from Callahan’s brow as he clutched the medallion in his palm. “He has tasted her blood and will return for more,” Callahan said, shoving the necklace securely into the front right pocket of his pants.

  Alexandra groaned.

  “I will destroy that beast,” the man muttered and raised her from the street in his strong, steady arms.

  She blinked hazily but then closed her eyes again.

  “She needs to go the hospital,” Callahan insisted. “She might have internal injuries. That vile creature dragged her around the street like a rag doll.”

  “Will you take her?” the raven-haired figure asked.

  “No,” Callahan shook his head. “I cannot protect her like you can, sir. My mortal coil is vulnerable to attack.”

  The figure nodded his head in agreement.

  “I have an idea” Callahan proposed. “Follow me.”

  A pair of headlights illuminated the street and passed them, sloshing pooled water from the road on them.

  Holding Alexandra against his chest, the man followed Callahan toward the house. “He is watching,” he called out to Callahan and sniffe
d the air. “He is not far from here. He is waiting.”

  “Yes,” Callahan said, hobbling up the steps. “Hurry, get inside,” Callahan said, opening up the front door.

  Locking the deadbolt behind them, Callahan swirled around and threw his back against the solid wooden door. “Let her rest over there,” he said, pointing to a sofa under the window in the living room. “There’s a flashlight around here somewhere,” he mumbled, searching the floor in the dark.

  The man gently laid Alexandra’s limp body on the cushions, propping her head in his arm. “I will not let you go,” he whispered in her ear.

  Callahan retrieved the flashlight and joined the man by the sofa. In the light they could see that she had been considerably wounded.

  “Hold this,” Callahan said, handing the flashlight to the stranger.

  At that moment, the stranger’s eyes locked on the gold ring on Callahan’s right hand.

  “You’re a knight?” asked the man.

  Chuckling, Callahan said yes and then leaned close to Alexandra, listening to her heartbeat. He shook his head with approval. “She is quite strong.”

  “She is,” said the man.

  Callahan rested his fingers gently under Alexandra’s jaw to check her pulse. Then he turned to the stranger and said, “But you are stronger.”

  “You know what I am?” asked the stranger.

  “Perhaps,” said Callahan. “What do you know of me?”

  “The only men who wear such a ring are brothers of the Order of the Dragon King,” explained the stranger, rising to his feet.

  Callahan noted that the man’s height exceeded his own; the stranger was over six feet. Raven hair fell past his shoulders over a faded black t-shirt that bulged under broad shoulders and a thick chest. His face had a glow and the softness of youth. But his dark, brooding eyes betrayed an old, wizened soul.

  “Yes,” agreed Callahan, standing to meet his gaze. Pulling Alexandra’s medallion from his pants pocket, he gazed at the figure etched into the bronze. “You have been searching for this.”