Abyss of the Fallen

by Diana Estell

  Two weeks without Mary, his heart continued to beat despite Savila’s cruel attempt to stop it.

  3

  In the Light of Dusk

  His wounds had healed by the time Savila opened the Abyss. He wasted no time in starting his life with Mary. Taking his purchases from his coat, he removed the tags with his dagger. Opening a suitcase, he pulled out wads and wads of cash placing some in his coat pockets and some in his wallet.

  After a bath and dressed in leather, he scanned the room. Throwing a lemon drop in his mouth, he bit into it then shook from the horrible aftertaste.

  The sun began to set outside the Abyss. Walking across the field, he stopped at the sight of Mary sitting on a bench with another female from the bachelorette party. The other woman must have been a close friend, for he could not see into her mind. She didn’t seem to be paying much attention to anything Mary said, and she looked antsy. He listened in as she asked Mary to a party at her house, but Mary declined. The friend excused herself and left. Mary remained on the bench alone. His bench. A good sign.

  A smile played on her face as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Soft rays of the setting sun bathed her face with a peaceful glow.

  As ready as he would ever be, he walked toward her with jittery limbs. His boots felt heavy as concrete. Great, I look like Frankenstein. Not wanting to scare her by popping out of thin air, he went behind her.

  He shook his arms to release nervous energy. It’s not like we haven’t met each other. Everything will be fine.

  “Mary.” His voice came out a squeak.

  Fine hairs on her neck stood up. Not a muscle on her petite frame moved an inch.

  Can’t I do anything right? I scared her.

  The wooden slats creaked as her body shifted around. With her left arm resting on the back of the bench, she raised her head up until their eyes met. Her mouth hung open, frozen.

  “Mary, I told you we would see each other again.”

  Still Mary said nothing.

  “Are you all right, Mary?”

  Mary pulled back from him. “Yes, but how do you know my name?”

  Dagon tilted his head, his eyes focused on her remarkable azure eyes, darker than his own. Nervously, he figured out how to explain himself without saying too much, too soon.

  “Did I not hear someone calling you this name?”

  “Yes, that’s right. My friend was just here talking to me a moment ago, and she did say my name.”

  “Yes, I thought I heard—”

  “What is your name?”

  “What is my … um … what?”

  “I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. I just … well, I’ve been wondering.”

  “I haven’t had anyone ask me this before.”

  “You mean your name?”

  “Yes … well, no … I mean …well … how you’ve been wondering,” said Dagon, hoping his flimsy response would be adequate.

  A crash course into Mary’s world began. Startled by her question, he made a huge oversight. Had she been wondering about him or was this a normal question?

  “Oh, that makes sense … I guess. I’ve been wondering about you … and um … your name since we met.”

  “Forgive me, my name is Dagon.”

  “I have never heard that name before. It’s unusual.”

  “’Tis an old name.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered, and her head pulled back.

  “Mary, are you sure that you are all right?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just … you are … I mean, your coat, you look so good in it.” Mary held up her hands. Her teeth nipped at her bottom lip.

  Dagon did a double-take in his mind. Did she really say I look good in this coat? He liked where this was heading. “Thank you.”

  What did I just say? He’s going to think I’m too forward. I’ve never ever said anything so forward to anyone.

  “I know this is last minute, but my friend who was just here invited me to a dance party at her house, and I was …”

  “Go on,” prompted Dagon.

  “I was wondering. Would you like to come with me?” Mary surprised herself with her newly found boldness.

  “I would be delighted to come with you.”

  She held onto the bench to keep her balance. “I can’t believe I said that,” Mary whispered.

  “For the record. I’m glad you did.” Dagon smiled.

  Heat rushed to Mary’s cheeks.

  Dagon offered his hand to her, and as he did, she saw his unusual coat pull up from his wrist, revealing some faint scars.

  His hand was warm and dry. A black onyx ring sat on his ring finger. Unusually, he had rock and roll themed rings on his thumbs. His coat and clothes were the wrapping on the package. GQ, eat your heart out. His chin-length hair moved in the wind over his mesmerizing face.

  She stood up, tiny as a fairy compared to his height. “How tall are you?

  “I don’t know really. I would say, somewhere between dwarf tall and giant small.”

  Good looking or not, I just met this guy. I should be running from him, instead of… anything than what I’m doing now. It can’t be. The more she looked at him, the more she believed her gut instincts, a supernatural connection perhaps. Here in front of her, was the man she had been dreaming about since she was a child. She was always the last girl to get a date, and that seemed fine with her. She shied away from men in general, but not this time. He stood tall like a living sculpture, and together they began walking into the sunset. The word “trophy” came to her mind, but that shallow term could not describe her dream man.

  Mary’s grasp tightened every time they passed women whose heads turned in Dagon’s direction like vultures eyeing a kill.

  How dare these women intrude on my dream. The gawking confirmed he was here.

  At the house party, Mary sensed a spotlight on them. A hip techno beat pumped throughout the whole house when the hostess came to greet them.

  Dagon couldn’t believe his beautiful bonded mate asked him out for a night of dancing. Wake up, Dagon, you’re dreaming. On second thought, if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. Two weeks of torture seemed to be a healed memory, like his scars.

  Instantly, Dagon read the mind of almost everyone in the room. The ones he could read at least. Through verbal conversation, he discovered the hostess’s name was Caroline. Caroline flirted with him, making him uncomfortable, so he held on to Mary’s hand with both of his.

  “So, Mary, tell me everything about your new guy here.”

  Mary hesitated and clutched his hands tighter.

  Dagon saw her looking around the room with apprehension, and he jumped in with the introductions, seizing the opportunity to set the record straight.

  “My name is Dagon. I’m her boyfriend.” Dagon looked at Mary, waiting for a response. He received it. She smiled.

  Caroline’s eyes popped, and her forehead wrinkled. “Can I speak to Mary alone?”

  “Yes, of course.” Dagon gave Mary a quick squeeze and a wink. “See you soon, baby.”

  Caroline practically dragged her into a bedroom.

  Dagon was alone again, and for the sake of privacy, he did not try to see or read their minds.

  “Spill it! Since when do you have a boyfriend? He’s so …”

  “Gorgeous, and he’s mine.”

  “Mary, don’t be so antsy. Come on, tell me everything.” Caroline rubbed her hands and grinned from ear to ear.

  “Would you leave a guy like that out there by himself?”

  “Okay, okay, but ‘boyfriend’? Since when?”

  “I guess since now. I met him …” Mary trailed off. “I met him two weeks ago, and after you left today, he showed up again.”

  “And now he’s your boyfriend already? Just like that? Isn’t that a bit fast?”

  “Yes, but it’s like I’ve known him for years.”

  “It just doesn’t sound like something you would do. You rarely date and never someone that you barely know.
”

  “I can’t explain this. You wouldn’t understand anyway.” Mary looked at the floor.

  “Try me.”

  Mary’s head shot up. Her eyes slit. “I don’t have to.” She then shot out of the door.

  Mary came back without Caroline. To his relief, she didn’t change her mind and walk out the front door. A new song started. Dagon stretched his arms across the back of a black leather couch, almost the same shade as his onyx ring. With a thud, she sat down next to him. Her face flushed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Caroline is wrong. All wrong.” Even whispering, Mary fumed.

  “Wrong about what?” Dagon brought his arms to his lap.

  “I don’t have to explain anything to her.” Mary folded her arms across her chest.

  Dagon said nothing, just tilted his head.

  “But … she does have a point.”

  “About what?” Dagon wrung his hands.

  “You’re my boyfriend, just like that.” Mary snapped her fingers. “And you tell someone else before you tell me, privately?”

  “I’m sorry, I should have told you alone, first.”

  “You should have asked me first, privately.” Mary held up her hand. “I don’t know you, but, yet I do. It’s in my dream, when I feel like my life has meaning, and now you’re here. That probably sounded nuts.” Mary put her hands over her face.

  Dagon gently brought her hands down and held them. “It’s not nuts. But what about your dreams gives you meaning?”

  “It’s only when I’m dreaming that I would let someone else hold my hand, like you’re doing now.”

  “I still don’t understand why dreams are more meaningful than living.”

  “Life is cruel … I’ve guarded myself … I …” Mary looked at Dagon, her eyes melting his. “I swore I would never be with any man. Too much pain.” Mary cast her eyes down. “Let’s just say, the few guys I did date, didn’t turn out so well, but in my dream world, it’s different. I feel like I’m not alone. Somehow, my dreams are linking me to this life. This probably isn’t making any sense. It barely does to me.”

  “I would never want you in pain or alone.” Dagon squeezed her hand. “You said something about me being here, what does that mean?”

  Perhaps what he said perked her up to explain the way she was looking at Dagon. Her eyes didn’t leave his.

  “You have been in my dreams since I was seven. I feel safe.”

  “You’ve dreamt of me?” In slow motion, Dagon pointed to himself.

  Mary nodded.

  If anything, at least she feels safe. Not sure, how long that will last. He detected an uneasiness in Mary around other women. He wanted to reassure her she need not worry over other women. He was a one-Mary-man. His lungs screamed for a cigarette, but he put her needs above his own.

  “Would you like to dance with me, luv?”

  “Yes.”

  Dagon led her to the small makeshift dance floor. Together, they savored their first slow dance together.

  “I’ve always wanted to dance to this song.”

  I did something right; this dance will be ours. I’m glad I made a move before she became scared, repulsed, or any number of other rotten things.

  Their bodies naturally moved to the slow romantic lyrics of the song. Dagon listened to the words and let the meaning fill in the cracks of his heart. Content, it didn’t seem like the last two weeks mattered. Maybe she does like me, somewhat. His pessimistic thoughts softened.

  “Are you all right?” said Mary.

  “I need a cigarette,” Dagon whispered sheepishly.

  “I do too; it’s okay,” she whispered back.

  Mary led him back to the couch where her purse was, but Dagon stopped her. He saw Caroline watching them, but more specifically, him. This unsettled him, and he reversed one of the veils to give them privacy. To everyone else in the room, they looked like they sat on the couch.

  He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out two cigarettes.

  She took the thin cigarette from him and studied it. “This is strange. Like metal or something.” She drew it to her lips.

  “I make my own cigarettes. These are—”

  “You make your own cigarettes?”

  “Yes, and they are 18 karat white gold.”

  Mary’s eyes bugged out.

  “Don’t worry, even the tobacco is my creation. It has pine, musk, and a hint of gardenia in it.” He winked.

  The once-bobbing cigarette now fell, which Dagon caught.

  “How? How did you?”

  “Mary, we will have lots of time for these questions,” said Dagon, hoping they would. “Suffice it to say, it’s chemically complicated.”

  “How many are in that case? Where do you get more when they are gone?” asked Mary, disregarding what he said.

  “They instantly refill.”

  “They what?”

  “Mary, I could use a smoke right now, how about you?”

  “Yes, so could I.”

  He gave her back the cigarette and placed another in his mouth. Great, my method of lighting the cigarette would be even more startling. Throwing caution and who knows what else to the wind, he tapped both of their cigarettes.

  Speechless at first, she cautiously inhaled and exhaled. “This is the best cigarette I’ve ever had. It smells amazing, too.”

  “As it should be.”

  Spontaneously, he took her hand. She looked up at him and smiled.

  Their cigarettes were almost burned out when he tapped his cigarette and then hers. The cigarettes melted into themselves and disappeared. This was apparently too much for her to handle.

  “Okay, that's it! Gold cigarettes which you made? Your own tobacco? They instantly refill? Tap and they light? Then tap and they disappear?” Mary covered her face.

  Dagon considered telling her they were under a veil, but this wouldn’t be the right time to spring that one on her. “You feel safe, remember.”

  Mary turned her face, her hands covering most of it. “Yes, in my dreams. This can’t be real! You? These cigarettes? I think everyone just heard me shouting.”

  “There is no need to apologize, luv. I can assure you I am real and so are these silver smoking sticks, and no one seems to have heard you. No worries, baby. I think it’s getting late. Let me walk you home.”

  He reversed the veil of privacy then helped her up. Still holding his hand, she followed him along. They exchanged a pleasant goodbye with their hostess, who followed Dagon with a lingering look he felt burning his backside.

  As they walked, she commented on the silver and black flecks in his coat.

  “They seem to weave in and out.” Her hand hovered above the sleeve.

  “Yes, they do. Isn’t it nice outside this evening?” he said, changing the subject.

  “Yes, it is.”

  He winked at her, and she smiled.

  Too soon they stood at her door. The streetlights cast a soft glow around them.

  The Cherbs saluted him and made kissing sounds. It took every ounce of control for him not to scream at them in front of her. He had shown her enough of the inexplicable for one evening. Being immortal had its perks, so he smiled on the outside and blasted the Cherbs on the inside, which made them laugh.

  “Where do you live?” Without waiting for a response, she continued. “Do you live around here in Oak Park?”

  “Something like that, luv.”

  A sudden chill brushed the nape of his neck. Savila called him back to the Abyss. He just hoped he wouldn’t be locked in for two more weeks, but he didn’t place much hope in that.

  Mary was still talking to him, inviting him to come inside. He was shocked, for Savila had unwittingly helped him to honor Mary by not going into her house at that time. He wanted everything to be done right. He fought to have control despite his racing desires. How egotistical can I get? I don’t even know if she feels for me in that kind of way.

  “No, not tonight. Perhaps another time.�
��

  “Will I see you again?”

  “Yes, we will be together again. Thank you for a wonderful evening. It was one of the best evenings I have ever had.”

  “It was the best time I have had, too. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He stroked her cheek with a shaky hand, which was not from needing nicotine this time. She reached up and steadied his hand with hers, and she pressed his hand to her cheek.

  Painfully, Dagon had to let go.

  “Guard her, boys!” he said to his Cherbs.

  “We will, boss! You should have planted one on her. We would have.”

  Leaving her cut into him worse than any dagger blade ever had. In the light of dusk, she resembled a sword with the silver of her clothes molding into steel under the glow of the streetlights, blending with the sharp edges of the moon which was barely starting to peek out. From another angle, she appeared like an angel, standing in absolute strength.

  Once he was out of sight, he replaced his two veils, making himself again invisible. He took out a lemon drop, popped it into his mouth, and cringed. He was grateful these candies also instantly refilled. The defilement of evil was a renewable resource.

  Mary was at home, and Dagon was back in his private quarters. He was sitting on his ebony chair. He hung his head, for he was imprisoned.

  This two-week confinement was worse than ever, for Savila had told him he would be the first one the Seraphs would see when Mark would be taken. Savila would manipulate the moment yet again to make the Boy fear him even more.

  He again spent most of the time in the ebony chair with his shirt off and his coat and pants on, just staring into space. His dagger cut into his forearms five more times, and again they healed. Mary’s scent lingered right where he needed it to. The slow song that he and Mary had danced to echoed in his mind.