by Kade Cook
“Hey, you! What the…” the voice cheers. “Get yourself over here.”
Gabrian jumps from her perch and hurries around the side of the bar, meeting the bartender on the other side, and lets his large tanned arms wrap around her small frame, lifting her from the floor and surrounding her in a glow of hazy tangerine as he hugs her. Thomas.
She hugs him back—tight—not wanting to let go right away. Gabrian slips into his warm embrace and it reaches deep, claiming the darkness for a moment and soothing the empty echo within her soul. He sets her back on her feet and they ravel themselves into a high energy conversation that excludes Ethan’s existence.
Seeing the light in her eye return in the exchange, Ethan sits quietly for a while, not wanting to interrupt, then coughs in a subtle attempt to gather the couple’s attention. Hearing the deliberate means of interruption, Gabrian turns to the culprit still carrying a grin. “Oh, sorry,” she says, reaching out her fingers to gather her friend’s hand, and leads him around to the front of the bar. “Thomas, I would like to introduce you to my friend, Ethan,” she says, her eyes glowing in euphoria of her reunited kinship. “Ethan, this is Thomas.”
Gabrian’s eyes pinch at the edges as she watches Ethan’s light grey aura swirl and sway—intermingling with the stray fragments of Thomas’s orange hue as the two make idle chatter. Her curiosity of the strange entanglement mutes out their conversation as she watches the auras dance around each other. “Hmmm,” she hums.
“So, is there any chance we might get in to eat?”
“There is probably a pretty good chance. It is slow tonight for some reason. Let me get you guys something to drink and I will check with the maître’de.” Thomas tugs on one of Gabrian’s loose tassels of hair before slipping back behind the bar to wait on them. After a quick drink and catch up between friends, Gabrian and Ethan slide into one of the rounded tables at the back and their meal is promptly served. As the two go over some highlights from the meeting at the conference, Gabrian picks up on an image of Thomas as it briefly flickers through Ethan’s mind. And being of the curious type, she engages, wanting to know more about what her mentor thinks of her bartender friend.
“So, what do you think of Thomas?”
Ethan’s eyes light up as a rose hue dances across his flesh. He reaches out his hand and clasps his beer, taking a sip. “Nice guy,” is all he says before going back to his meal.
“Do you notice anything about him?” Gabrian pries, waiting for Ethan to explain what section of the Fellowships he is from due to his orange aura.
“Yes,” he says.
Gabrian waits for his take on the odd colouring of his essence.
“It is nice to see that you are keeping your group of friends diverse.”
Her brow wrinkles. She waits for a moment but then decides to bait his statement, wanting more details. “How so?”
“Well, I think it is great that you still are interacting with humans. It helps keep you aware of normal life and what it was like before you knew about the Realm.”
She stares at him with a twisted jaw, her teeth now nipping at her bottom lip in confusion of his answer. This is not quite the response she was looking for.
“What is with the face?” he says, taking another sip of his beer, fully in control of his emotions now.
She straightens her jaw and sits back in her seat, her mind sifting over the fact Ethan did not pick up on the strange colour of Thomas’ aura. Strange. Maybe it is for a reason, she thinks and decides to keep this bit of oddness to herself. “Um, nothing,” Gabrian says, shaking her head, and closes the file in her brain about her friend, locking its secret away for safekeeping. “I was just thinking about my life before the Realm.” Gabrian smiles at Ethan, hoping she has not disclosed anything important to him. She trusts Ethan but the fact he said nothing is unnerving.
They finish up dinner, continuing to talk of the conference, then make their way back through the restaurant toward the exit. Gabrian stops to wish Thomas a good night, making plans to see each other tomorrow after the meetings are over and as luck would have it, Thomas has the day off—wanting to do up the town with them.
***
With the final meeting over, and the rest of the day ahead of them, Ethan and Gabrian take in the tourist side of Manhattan with the help of their eagerly awaiting guide. Thomas takes them on a blur of fun and historical sites within city limit then slows as they approach their final destination when he notices Ethan’s demeanor shift and his level of happiness dampen upon arrival.
Sensing the sadness in Ethan’s energy, Gabrian questions him. “Are you all right, Ethan?”
He takes a weighted breath and looks out across the park. “Yes, fine, Gabrian. It is just the first time I have been back since Vaeda summoned…” He looks around, taking in the present company and corrects his wording. “I mean, when Vaeda asked Cimmerian and I to come and help her out with an issue that had arose in the park. Before that, it had been a very long time since I have walked these streets.”
Having pushed the horrible time for her out of her head, Gabrian stays quiet, remembering. Not knowing what to say in present company, she feels there is so much more to what has happened here—an underlying network of sadness in his words.
The light-hearted afternoon is now gone, weighted with memories of another time. Thomas watches both of them standing quiet for a moment. He looks out across the city with them, his tanned hands hitched on his hips, then glances down at his watch. “Sorry to burst any bubbles here, guys, but I am afraid I have to be the bearer of bad news.” He slips a peek at Ethan then looks down at his friend. “I hate to see you both go but if you two intend on catching your flight back, we better get you guys back to your hotel,” Thomas chimes, his eyes bright with hope of the world.
Ethan glances down at his watch and nods. “Yes, I suppose you are right. Thank you, Thomas. It is easy to lose yourself in this place.” He smiles, eyes slanting down at Gabrian, then jump up to meet his gracious tour guide.
* * *
The plane ride from New York to Bangor seems to last forever.
Gabrian tries to sleep but her mind will not play along. The buzz of being in New York still lingers in her, keeping her wired and whirling within a windstorm of memories the whole flight. Some good and some, not so much. She just starts to nod off somewhere within them when the flight attendant announces they will be landing in Bangor International, bringing her back with an abrupt jolt to a memory that will not leave her.
Gabrian decides she must make amends, admitting her selfishness does not give her the right to hurt him—the guardian who would lay his life down for her, the mate who loves unconditionally, and the soul she convinced herself that she was saving. In reality, her act of supposed selflessness does not warrant the measure of suffering she has caused him, or herself for that matter.
“Listen, do not beat yourself up about it, kid.”
Gabrian gasps at Ethan’s sudden words. Thinking that he was asleep, she must have been pondering her life dilemmas unguarded.
“You have only been here a short while. I have been kicking around for over three hundred years and I am still trying to figure life out.”
Her face grows in a pink hue as the sting of embarrassment bites at her. “Sorry,” she says, peeking across her shoulder at him to see his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes still unopened.
“No problem, kiddo. Can I offer you some advice?”
She leans back against the headrest of her seat and peeks over at him. “Yes, go ahead. I could probably use some right now.”
“You love this guy, right?”
“Yes, of course I do. More than anything.”
“Well, as far as I can figure out with the Schaeduwe, their devotion to the ones they love and the seriousness by which they take their oaths far outweighs any so-called selfless acts that the rest of us will make. Even though you think you may have saved him from his petty existence—and don’t get me wrong cause I know wh
at you were trying to do—by cutting him loose or chasing him away, all you have done is make his life a living hell by denying him his oath of honour and duty. More importantly, you are denying him of love, one that will burn in his heart for a thousand years.”
The words sting as they roll off Ethan’s tongue. Gabrian feels the dew forming at the edges of her eyes as she wonders about what she has done.
“We’ve all been there. We have all screwed up,” he whispers to her, reaching out one of his folded hands to lightly pat the side of her arm. “You two will figure it out. Shane is one of the good ones.”
Gabrian gazes back out the window and wipes away the moisture blurring her view of the chaotic world below her. She allows herself a moment of regret then grits her teeth, pushing back the tendrils of pain aching to take over. She stares blankly out the window, forming her plans for once they touch ground, and knows Ethan is right. He is always right. Shane really is great, and he deserves to know just how much.
She will fix this mess she made and make it right again if it is the last thing she does.
59
LATTE AND SOAP
Every minute Gabrian sits idle on the tarmac is another minute she is delayed from getting to Shane. She had sent him a text message after her phone call went to voicemail, asking him to meet her at her house so they could talk.
Her eyes continually drop to check her phone for a reply even though the phone remains still. Shadow Walkers do not run on the same schedule as everyone else on this Earth; she blames the no reply on this, hoping it is the reason for his silence and that he is caught up in training or is actually sleeping—a rare occurrence of the Schaeduwe from what she has observed.
Even though he remains silent, despite her obsessive neurotic need to check the phone every two minutes, Gabrian knows Ethan is awake from the grin curled at his lips.
Finally docking at Bangor International, Ethan and Gabrian depart the airplane. She wastes no time claiming her baggage and trots toward the exit in a brisk stride while Ethan lags behind, still wearing a grin. She pinches the edges of her eyes and folds up her nose at him, faltering Ethan’s ability to hold in his laughter any longer.
“Relax, we will get there soon enough,” he says, watching her march forward—dedicated to her silent mission. “Give this old guy a break.”
“You’re not old, Ethan,” she heckles him over her shoulder.
“Thank you for your gracious words but I beg to differ,” Ethan chimes in, raising his brow.
Gabrian forgets, even though Ethan may look no more than his mid-thirties, she would need to tag on a few centuries to her birth date to be anywhere even close to his actual age.
“Well then, in that case, do you want me to go get you a courtesy wheelchair to help speed you along?”
“Actually, that would be great!” he teases, picking up his pace.
She shakes her head at his reply and glares at him over her shoulder again. “Oh, just come on. Will you?” Gabrian rolls her eyes and slips through the spinning automatic doors, leaving Ethan behind with his witty humour to keep him company.
The drive back to Mount Desert Island is quick. Ethan manages to take her mind off her phone by talking shop and how to implement some of the new ideas from the conference. At the Bar Harbor turnoff, Ethan asks if she want to go straight home or if she would like to stop off at the Coffee Hound for a night cap. The mention of the treat makes her mouth water, sealing the deal. The blinker clicks eagerly to the left, making their decision clear to the world around them.
With her ‘Turtle Latte’ in hand, Gabrian slips into her car she left outside the office, checking her phone once more before she heads back to North East Harbor.
Still no reply.
Pulling into her driveway, she glances down at her phone again.
Nothing.
Feeling the frustration become unbearable—tying knots in the middle of her shoulder blades—she slips the key into the lock and twists.
Taking a long sip of her latte, she sets it on the kitchen counter with her keys and heads straight for the shower to wash off the staleness of the flight. With enough hot water, she hopes to drown herself within its warm misty cocoon, slip into a peaceful vortex of sorts, and let everything bad that has happened to her in this Realm disappear down the drain with the soapsuds.
60
EVALUATED LEVERAGE
Hovering over the dark barren hole that has come to be known as Adrinn’s abode, Cimmerian glares down at the dreadful spot with tears of frustration blurring his vision. The air around him thins as he pushes his hand out, letting them hover at his sides. A violet hue silhouettes the outline of his fingers as his palms build with the Magik that dwells inside of him. Crackling hisses sting the air as Cimmerian fires the first orb of Magik at the ground, knocking on Adrinn’s door.
The ground tremors as Cimmerian’s Magik punches against the Earth, pushing a slight indent into its tender flesh. He raises his left arm and wipes away the wetness in his eyes with the back of his hand then lowers it again, filling his palm with Magik once more. With no reply to his gentle rapping, Cimmerian releases his fury with both hands and the Earth’s skin forms a jagged crack, snaking the ground in front of him.
“Come out, Adrinn,” he shouts, a note of hysterics lingering in his tone. “It is time to end this madness. I am done playing your games.” Cimmerian shakes his hands, feeling the abundance of violet fire yearning to break free.
A smoky thick mist breaks from the walls of Erebus, climbing out from within the breach in the ground, and slides across the darkened distance standing between it and Cimmerian. Writhing and switching in place, the mist takes form, and in front of him appears the image of the Specter he has come to see.
Wearing the always smug twist of his lips, Adrinn welcomes his guest. “Well, well…it seems that you have your knickers tied up in a knot about something. To what do I owe this delightful visit?”
“I am done.” Cimmerian waves his hands back and forth between Adrinn and himself in a frantic motion, gasping for breath. “This, whatever kind of sick means of torturous game you are playing here with me, it’s done. I am done.”
Adrinn’s grin deepens and his eyes brighten with a yellowish glow. He tilts his head and locks eyes with Cimmerian. “Whatever do you mean?” he taunts. “I thought we were friends.”
“I can’t do this anymore, this whole dancing on the fence between you and your demented requests and the responsibilities I have to the Covenant of Shadows. I refuse to play both sides any longer. It drove Caspyous to the edge and I refuse to let it destroy me.”
“I’m sorry…I have obviously missed something marvelous. Please do go on, dear boy, I am quite curious to know what you are blathering on about.”
“Théoden’s son, Caspyous, the one that took his place at the High Table after his demise has been incarcerated, held in contempt for attempting to kill the girl.”
Adrinn huffs out a chuckle and rubs the edge of his grinning face. “Ah yes, I was wondering how that turned out.”
“You knew?”
“Let’s just say a little birdie may have whispered something in my ear about it.”
Cimmerian clenches his fists, the violet fire within them hisses in protest, shooting out in sparks from between the crevices in his fingers. “The greed of power pushed him over the edge. He went mad with it and they found out.” He turns on his heels and begins to pace, staring at the ground. “I have been suppressing everything about our interactions—about you and the girl—people are starting to notice. I will not let you destroy my standing of respect within my peers. I will not let your selfish wants destroy my life, not again. It is over, Adrinn.”
“Let me explain this to you in a way so that you will understand.” Adrinn grins but his eyes show no compassion for the receiver of his words. “You need me,” he spits out at Cimmerian, burning him with the bitter truth they carry as visions of his daughter haunt his mind. “In order for you to save your precio
us Symone, you must do as I ask you to do. And, you will continue to mentor my daughter. Then I, in return, save yours. It is as simple as that.”
Cimmerian’s eyes narrow. “Your daughter?”
“Oh yes, haven’t you heard? Rumor has it that my beloved Cera was a very good secret keeper, among other things, or so I am told. The girl, the wild youngling it seems, just happens to be the offspring of my loins,” Adrinn prattles on, his mouth wide and upturned. “Who would have guessed it? Me, a father.”
Cimmerian’s eyes widen and his head begins to reel. Everything he has observed about her, all the ‘gifts’ that have been manifesting…it makes perfect sense. No wonder Caspyous panicked and tried to do away with her. She could become something more, something much more.
“So, you see, old boy, it’s a perfect partnership. You do as I say, and I will give you what you so badly desire…eventually.” He snickers, slithering his vaporous body to the far edge of the blackened Earth and sits upon the large amethyst stone, smug grin still displaying on his lips.
“No, that is where you are wrong, Adrinn. I choose to end this now, tonight. Now give me my daughter!”
“Oh dear. I do apologize.”
“What?”
“I believe I may have misled you a bit.” The fiend pinches his fingers together in front of his face, narrowing his eyes and pursing his sinister grin. “You see, you have no choice in the matter.” He disappears from his perch then reappears to lurch over Cimmerian’s back. “If I were to give you what you so dearly long for, the return of your precious Symone within your spindly arms, then I will give away every ounce of leverage I hold over you, thus rendering our endearing relationship mute. And that, my dear Cimmerian, would be a travesty, don’t you think?”
