by Kade Cook
Catching a more intense scent of seared flesh drawing near, the girls look up at the beaming faces of the chefs before them.
“Hey, do you hear that?” Broghen blurts out to Ashen, a knowing grin rising on his lips. “Sounds like old Blue has the guitars all warmed up.”
“Oh, yes it does,” she chirps excitedly and twists her chair to face the table. “Well then, we better hurry up and dig in.”
“Why is that?” Rachael asks, sauntering toward the group at the table as she dries the remaining wetness from her hair.
“Because we have a beach party to go to,” Ashen declares, reaching for the pasta salad in front of her.
“We do?” Gabrian looks at Shane then over at her instructor. “What about our testing?”
“Don’t worry about it, kiddo. We have plenty of time for testing tomorrow.” Ashen raises her beer into the air and smirks over at Broghen who lifts his drink to mirror hers, creating a domino effect with the rest of the group at the table. “Tonight, we dance.”
29
EASTCOAST HOSPITALITY
Stuffing down their meal of salads and steak—which Gabrian is impressed that Broghen delivered her meal of meat still almost mooing—they devour as much as they can without wasting too much time on chewing as the music across the way beckons to them through the long grasses, hurrying along the ritual clean up duties of supper.
Grabbing each end of the cooler, Broghen and Shane carry their cargo across the patio and into the grassy path, matted and worn from many trips in between dwellings. The closer they step, the louder and more joyous the melodies ring on their senses. The grounds surrounding the small storm-coloured house are wide open, greened with luscious, well-maintained grasses that stagger downward toward the sandy beach below filled with large able bodies, wielding all sorts of musical instruments—flattop acoustic guitars to mandolins and their high-pitched song, right down to a couple of makeshift beatboxes used as seats while the performers sway and tap their hands in time with the rhythmic tune being played.
Just on the cusp of the beach where the festivities are taking place, Gabrian notices the sea of blue waves, not that of the ocean dancing the background, but of the auras on display. A sickening wave of anxious tremors jolt her to a dead stop. Vicious words of disdain play though her mind from Caspyous’s open dislike of her kind and the blue auras in front of her wave like flags of caution just on the other side of the path, causing her to instinctively tuck away and camouflage her grey flowy aura.
Seeing her hesitation in joining the group, and the strange colour shift of her aura, Ashen quickly returns to Gabrian’s side. “Is everything all right?”
“I am not sure I should be here.”
“Why on Earth would you think that?”
“Well, due to all the blue auras floating around down there, maybe it is better that I just go back to the house.”
Looking at Gabrian’s clouded eyes, Ashen tries to find the issue of her hesitation. “You have something against the Hydor Fellowship?” Ashen pushes out the words with a furrowed brow.
“Me? Oh, no—not at all.” She chuckles nervously and runs her fingers through the top of her hair, scrunching it tightly at the top of her head. “It just seems in my limited experience with them, or should I say with Caspyous, that they seem to have a major hate for all things Boragen.”
Ashen laughs out loud, relieved to hear her answer. “Oh, my dear, you have nothing to fear here,” she offers, sliding her slender tanned arm around Gabrian’s shoulders and cups her in a gentle half-hug. “Don’t let the words of a cantankerous jaded fool ruin it for the rest of them. Not all Hydor are hellbent on destroying Borrowers, just like not all Borrowers are on a collision course with becoming Vapir.”
“Vapir?” Gabrian glances up at her and scowls in confusion.
“A vampire. I forget that not everyone refers to things in the old language as the Elders do.” Dropping her embrace, Ashen points to the older gentleman sitting cross-legged on the sand, leading the group in a song. “See the old guy over there with the black hat with the road runner on the front of it?”
Gabrian searches the musical crowd and spots the person Ashen is referring to and nods.
“Well, Old Blue there has a particular motto that carries a lot of wisdom most of us adhere by. It goes something like this: ‘The living, are just that—living. No matter what shape or form it takes. You must always respect and protect it, as it is the greatest of all gifts.’” Ashen raises her other hand and tips up the end of her drink, releasing its golden liquid to rush past her lips and into her mouth. “No one here is going to judge you for the colour aura you wear. They are all more interested in the warmth and the song in your heart.”
The twisting in Gabrian’s muscles ceases. The meaning of Ashen’s relayed words release the tense knot of torture burrowing in between her shoulders, leaving only a dull ache in its absence.
“Try not worry so much, okay? Trust me, we will have loads of time after tonight to worry about things. So, smile, drink your drink, and try to enjoy yourself. Deal?”
Unable to help herself from chuckling at the Elder’s request, she nods and does as she is asked. Tipping her beer up and letting her inhibitions disappear with the liquid, she exhales the stress-filled breath she had been holding. “All right, deal.”
The rest of the daylight hours are filled with laughter, stories of crazy adventures, and songs of a language that Gabrian cannot comprehend but claps and dances along with them anyway. She even tries to sing along as Broghen’s surprisingly alluring voice rings out the words of a few songs she knows. Her spirit is engaged and getting lost within the warm and embracing charm of east coast hospitality. With a confident look of trust given by her new mentor, she barely flinches when the leader of the musical evening asks her about her heritage, curing his playful curiosity and wonderings about whether or not she carries the gift of mind reading as well.
After a few hours of mingling and sharing in pleasantries, her mind seeks a quieter place. Following the narrow lip of sand that kisses against the grassy shoreline, Gabrian drifts down the beach, following the moon as it dances in the distance upon the ocean’s smoothened flesh. The warm summer air that had embraced them earlier in the day is now cool, causing her skin to pimple in the breeze as she strolls away from the still chanting crowd, tucked within her own embrace. Her mind had been distracted in the pleasantries presented but is now drifting back to the realities that lie ahead.
Lost in her thoughts, the touch of a warm hand against her shoulder gives her a start and her fingers spark mildly in the darkness.
“Hey, are you okay?” Shane’s sandy voice soaks into her and warms her heart with his concern but saddens her just the same. Always watching out for her, always putting her first before himself—when it comes to her, he gladly steps past his own needs to ensure hers are met. Though she loves his devotion and uncontested affections for her, it sends a sick and suffocating wave of guilt washing through her—she continues to allow him to sacrifice his own world for hers.
“Yeah, I am fine. Just taking a breather from all the fun.”
“Too much?” he teases, the folds in his cheeks revealing his jest.
“Maybe, a bit—it has just been a long day is all, I guess.”
“So, what’s up with the mini flares?” he mentions, pointing to her fingertips.
She glances down at her hands and tucks them up under her arms, now aware that someone other than she knows about the oddity she has yet to figure out for herself. “Um, it’s nothing. Just something that happens sometimes; don’t worry about it. It’s nothing really.”
Not sure that he believes her blatant attempt to dodge his question, he lets it drop, more concerned about her isolating herself. “All right,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “Listen, if you are worried about the ‘ice’ thing, don’t. Ashen is an amazing person. I have known her and Broghen for a long time. If anyone can help you, it will be her. You’ll see,” he says, stepping
in closer to her and wrapping her up in his arms. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”
Her veins sting, alive and awake from his closeness—the heat of his torso lulls the subtle chill that had cloaked her body just moments ago. Looking up into his emerald eyes, still wooing her as if they had only met yesterday, she inhales his summer scent and succumbs to his gentle persuasion.
“Okay,” is all she can muster, unsure she can trust herself to concede to his undying optimistic beliefs, and his willingness to alter things just to ensure its possibility. Her mind jumps to the conversation Rachael had with Broghen in the car earlier so she sets her curiosity free. “Have you ever lived in the Veil?”
“During my youth, I did for a while with my parents but they preferred living here on Earth. So, they took up residence in Maine. But after they were murdered, I abandoned this life for a while. I couldn’t be in the same space as the monsters that took them from me so ruthlessly. After a while of living in temporary homes of families within the Veil, I began to long for the gentleness of this world—even with its evils. All the colours, the smells. Orroryn brought me back with him to Maine when I was old enough and eventually I set up what is now my little world. Built my greenhouse and dove into the beauty of life and the pleasures of watching a simple seed grow into something incredible and pure. Once in a while, it calls to me, the Veil, like a dream that pulls on your subconscious.”
“Do you ever think you will go back?”
“You mean will I ever leave?”
Looking away, just for a moment Gabrian bows her head. “Yeah, something like that.”
“There is nothing there for me right now. I will remain here on Earth as long as there is something important enough to keep me here. Right now, my heart is tethered to its core. I could not leave even if I wanted to.”
“Oh.” Gabrian becomes sullen at the understanding of his words—at the understanding he has stopped living because of her. Having control and so much power over someone is hard for her to swallow, knowing it is not fair. She never wanted it, never asked for it, and it saddens her deeply.
Shane lifts her chin with the tips of his fingers so she is forced to meet his eyes. “I am not missing out on anything. I hope you know that. I have everything anyone could ever need right here.” His fingers drop to tap lightly on the space over her heart. Gabrian slips her hand up to rest over his, gripping it tightly—refusing to let go. Her eyes glisten with grueling emotions—guilt strangling her, the warden over his captivity.
Crouching down so that his lips are close enough to touch hers, Gabrian stretches—pressing herself upward on the tips of her toes. No longer able to stand looking into the intensity of his faithful eyes, she slides her arms up and over his shoulders then tangles them around his neck—pulling him down close enough to press her lips hard against his. The simple act of intimacy—flesh against flesh and the sweet taste of his mouth—swallows her up and she allows it to consume her—for now, drowning her guilt within it. She draws him in to her, kissing him feverishly and relishing in the heat of their flame.
Conceding to the moment, Gabrian lets go as Ashen’s words echo lightly around the fringes of her mind and determines that her host may be right.
Enjoy tonight. They will worry about things later.
She hopes.
30
UNCOMFORTABLE EXCHANGE
The signs of morning’s first risers waft through the cracks of the open window of Gabrian’s room. Waves of gentle rumblings of motors from lobster boats already busy collecting their catch carry on the wind from the distance. Life on the coast begins early and waiting on the lazy sun to make its appearance is sometimes not an option, especially when their livelihood depends on it.
Gabrian’s eyelids flutter, still heavy with sleep, as the subtle white hue of dawn creeps up through the end of night’s boundaries—clinging to the edge of the skyline just on the other side of her window. She raises her head and twists herself to the left so that she can admire dawn in all its splendor as clouds dressed with crimson hems try to outrun the sun.
Hope, she thinks, her mouth lifting at its edges.
Hearing a soft snore from behind her, she peeks over her shoulder at the burly sleeping beauty lying beside her, still fully clothed from the night before. Exhausted and spent, they both had crawled in bed and fell into slumber within the warmth of their coverings, sometime after the songs had stopped and the night’s moments had stilled.
Her usual dream cycle of partial memories ceases to exist. For once, in a long time, she cannot recall anything—no colours, no distorted images, no nothing. Her mind feels rested and relaxed, quite unusual for her but she is grateful for the change-up of events, even if it is a fluke, she will take it—convinced all the fresh sea air is to blame.
Murmurs of busy hands edge up from below through the opening of the spiral staircase as well as the distinct scent of coffee. Pulling open the edge of the covering from her legs and swinging her feet free to touch the floor, she tiptoes across the room and starts her descent toward the sounds of life.
The voices that stirred her from her bed were still just that—voices. The kitchen is empty of warm bodies. Only the bubbling grumble of the coffee machine is in attendance to greet her. Scuffling her sleepy feet across the room, she fixes herself a cup of the much-needed brew from the arranged assortment of fixings set neatly by the machine then wanders toward the side door, where the voices seem to be coming from.
The room on the other side of the door is nothing more than an insulated garage, the walls lined with large freezer-type contraptions that look nothing like anything she has ever seen before. Some are tall and slender while others were short and stocky—all labeled with dates and names on the front of them. Oddly, it reminds her of a morgue, or what a cryogenic freeze laboratory might resemble—a holding area of bodies—souls that wish to come back upon the discovery of cures, freeing them of what was killing them before being put in the freezer in the first place.
In the middle of it all is a white van. On the side in big bold but elegantly placed letters that read: Ashen’s gifts. Ice crafting for life’s special moments. Gabrian had noticed a sign at the edge of the driveway on the way in from the main road but did not read what it had said.
Gabrian’s lips curl upward as reality dawns on her. Everyone from the Realm, so far, is just like everyone else in the world. They have to work—holding down everyday jobs. The fact they are part of an unseen domain and holding esteem positions within the Covenant of Shadows does not exempt them from the mundane fact that they still need to pay bills.
Fragments of light cascade down through a large circular hole cut in the middle of the ceiling—stirring Gabrian’s curiosity of its placement—studying the oddity of it. A familiar female voice jumps down at her—jarring Gabrian from her silent contemplation as a person she doesn’t recognize walks by the round opening above followed by bare slender tanned legs that she did.
Gabrian scans the rest of the room. Spotting wooden stairs leading upward, she decides to go say good morning, and to be nosey—curious to find out what they are up to. At the top of the steps, she peeks around the corner, smiling meekly from behind her cup, taking a sip of her coffee as Ashen gives her a brief wave and signals to her that she will greet her in a second. She is busy instructing Broghen and the unknown helper where to grip onto a freezer, much like the ones she saw downstairs.
Seeing Ashen’s wave, the boys look up in Gabrian’s direction and lose their focus for a moment, turning their heads to smile her way. Broghen teases Gabrian then turns to wink at Ashen who just rolls her eyes at him.
“Oh, leave her alone and get back to keeping this thing steady. There is no way I can scurry fast enough to put another one together before the reception at one o’clock.”
Broghen chuckles in a low hearty laugh, focusing most of his attentions back on the task at hand. The other young man does not say anything but flashes her a warm smile that crinkles the lines around hi
s eyes, but as his gaze meet hers, the connection jolts through her like lightning striking against her soul. Gabrian’s breath catches in her lungs—startling her. Her calm lingering aura sparks and eddies violently with an immediate recognition of some new kind of magic—nothing like she has felt before. She strains to feel his energy but cannot see anything about him that seems unusual or dynamic. The young man’s aura appears to be nothing more than that of a human. He nods at her slowly then turns back to help Broghen with his chore.
Unsure of how she is supposed to respond to the reaction or if at all, Gabrian stands where she is, watching in silence—certain that Ashen will alert her if she was in any kind of danger.
With their hand positioning in place, Broghen and the stranger slide the large box along the floor with a gentle, yet continuous tug and let it rest over a large thick rounded plate. Ashen reaches up and flips a latch on another large round plate, hovering parallel to the bottom one, and releases a long metal pipe. It slides down and settles into a divot below. Repeating the process five more times, she lowers to the floor beside the bottom plate and slips a lever around the edge of it with loud snap, locking the descended bars into place.
“There, all done. It just needs to be put into the truck,” Ashen says, pushing back onto her heels and wipes her hands on the denim apron wrapped tightly around her. “Do you boys think you can handle it from here?”
“Un morceaux du gateau,” Broghen chirps, stepping in front of Ashen. He places a light kiss on her temple as he cups her chin in his hand, then starts toward the hole in the floor and looks down. He glances up for a brief second at Gabrian, delivering a wink then with a quick hop, disappears into the hole.
“Show off,” Ashen says shaking her blond head, and slides backward toward two large levers sticking out of the wall where a complex pulley system is orchestrated—connecting to the metal cylinder cage encasing the strange freezer.
