Abyss of the Fallen
Page 12
“Thank you. Oh, yes. I told you that it would work out.”
“You are most welcome. Now, what did you design for yourself?”
“Oh, it is truly enchanting, and it is time for us to now get ready, but I want you to go first, so I can adjust, fix or alter whatever is needed on your blazer. It is customary to do this while you are wearing it.”
Dorian donned his blazer. Modern, it showcased his strength of character. The slim fitting silhouette outlined his athletic build. It even had black satin elbow patches.
“Oh, Magethna, you did a wonderful job,” said Mystil. “The blazer looks nice on you, Dorian.”
“And it compliments everything else,” said Raglen.
Magethna said nothing at first. Coming over to Dorian, she straightened, pulled, and studied his blazer. She backed up, scrutinizing her creation closely. She waved her hands over some stray threads, and then declared it to be perfect.
“Would you let me create you a new waist coat, perhaps?”
“No, we agreed to this. Raglen is right, the blazer offsets the classic components in this ensemble remarkably well.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but my offer still stands to change the other items of your ensemble.”
“Thank you indeed, but I am quite satisfied. A classic never really dies, does it? I believe it is your turn, Magethna.”
Magethna smiled but wished that his choice in clothing would bend. She twirled, and the dress she created appeared onto her body in a true Cinderella moment.
The delicate white chiffon fabric loosely draped her in layers. A slim bodice with a lighter silhouetted line gave her a natural but modern look. She even had a new hair style, an up-do with a rhinestone headband. As a finishing touch, she revealed the white chiffon parasol, which she loved so much.
“You look stunning,” said Mystil.
Dorian reflexively ran his hands through his hair, as if trying to fix what he could.
Magethna approved of Dorian’s silence, his self-conscious grooming speaking volumes.
Dorian and Magethna lithely and invisibly went down the Bennett stairs. They dissolved through the front door and made their way to the front of the gate. They waved to Raglen and Mystil, who were stationed at the window, then reversed one of their veils, making them visible to the one they awaited.
Magethna opened her parasol, twirled it three times behind her and then brought it to a graceful stop.
Their keen ears detected a rumble and the sound purred closer and closer toward them. William drove up in a black car. He pulled up next to them and got out. He wore faded jeans with a gray argyle sweater over a white dress shirt.
“Hey, my favorite Seraphs.” William shook Dorian's hand and hugged Magethna. “What do you think of my wheels? Aren’t they bad?”
Magethna wondered why he concerned himself with the wheels, and why he said that they were unsatisfactory. He looked like he enjoyed the car, for he beamed from ear to ear. He even buffed it slightly here and there with his sweater sleeve. His words seemed more like a mathematical algorithm, but an actual algorithm would have been easier for her to solve.
“What kind of car is it?” asked Dorian. Magethna nodded slightly at Dorian, for she liked his redirection very well.
“It’s a hot 55 Chevy muscle car … and, man, can it book!”
Magethna looked at Dorian, more confused than ever.
“I’ve been psyched all day, waiting to see ya both. It’s been too long since we were all together. I’ve missed ya very much.”
“It is joyous to see you too, dear William,” said Magethna.
“Dad will love the sweet ride that I purchased. I was just flying by the seat of my pants, booking my flight at the last minute. I’ve been here for two days staying at a friend’s house, waiting to make my grand entrance today with you. The car deal went down quickly, and here I am. What a ride! It’s wicked fast.”
The Seraphs said nothing, for what could they say? Thankfully, William moved on by complimenting her dress and Dorian’s fine blazer, but he stopped cold, his eyes on Dagon, who sat on the bench and did not acknowledge their presence.
“Why doesn’t he go back down into the hole that he crawled out of?”
“William Henry Bennett!” Dorian chastised.
“Dagon could have heard that. “I believe he is changing.” Magethna said.
“He’s a waste of time and space.” William spat.
Magethna was about to speak but cut off.
“Do you believe he can change?” William rolled his eyes.
“I’m very skeptical.” Dorian touched William’s shoulder. “Let me finish. Yes, I’m skeptical, but I will not pass judgement on him or say no change could never occur, even as remote as it may be for Dagon.”
William smacked the steering wheel with his hand. “He has been judged. He got his … he got kicked out.”
“Then why is he still half human? Savila could have turned him into a shadow or worse, but she didn’t or couldn’t,” said Magethna. “And might I add, your outburst proves the bitterness of the heart which invades all humanity.”
“Hey, I didn’t side with Savila or doom humanity, like he did!”
“True, but if there is hope for humanity, then I must believe there is hope for Dagon as well.” Magethna adjusted her dress.
“We can just disagree on that.” William looked over his shoulder briefly, his mouth twitching. “Um … thank you for the key, by the way,” said William, ignoring their censor. “Snowcap delivered it, no problem. What’s it for?”
“You will know when the time is right.” Dorian and Magethna replied in unison.
They walked to the front of the house where Mr. Dawson smiled to William while quietly escorting Dorian and Magethna into the house, his reaction drastically different than before.
Magethna felt a natural informality to an otherwise formal occasion.
Informality aside, Frances and Henry welcomed William, who was beyond under-dressed. William promptly scurried off, but the rebel (with a cause or without) returned in evening wear similar to that of his father, except with a slightly opened white shirt.
“Mark is still at school, but he’ll be thrilled to see you,” said Frances.
Teatime with the Bennetts was right downright amazing. Magethna stared at the delectable sandwiches which sat on her plate of fine china before eating them. She carefully placed the delicate teacup onto its matching saucer.
After tea finished, the conversation warmed up.
“Dad, I bought a black 55,” said William.
“Really? When?”
“Yesterday. Let’s go see it.” Nodding his head in the direction of the door. They both dismissed themselves with forced pleasantries.
They were gone for a while. When Henry came back in, he was flushed and slightly disheveled. He winked at Frances, and then whispered into her ear. “I took the car out for a spin. Several spins, actually.”
“You what?”
“Yes, and I drove with my coat off.”
“You drove with only your shirt on?”
“Yes, and it was fun, or as William keeps saying, wicked.”
“What on earth?” whispered France, as she leaned away from her husband slightly; her husband and William sat as antsy as boys.
Henry reached behind him then placed a square, flexible package into Magethna’s hands. “You’ve given us so much, so we decided to give you something in return. You can open it. This is from the whole family.”
Delicately, she unwrapped the package, careful not to damage it in any way. She was glad that Dorian said nothing about ripping the paper. Amazed, she held a pink, leather-bound scheduling book. She hugged it against her chest. “How did you know? I love it so much!”
“Dorian mentioned it,” said Henry.
“Dorian, thank you! I will place all of our important times and dates in these fragile pages with love and care.”
“I thought you would like your daily planner to be pi
nk,” said Frances.
“Oh … a daily planner … how nice! And yes, I do love pink.”
“And now, for you,” William said to Dorian. He handed Dorian a silver pocket watch attached to a matching, heavy-looking chain. “Sorry, I didn’t wrap it. Dad has its twin. I figured you could use it more than I ever could.”
Eyes wide, Dorian opened the watch. Everyone listened to the subtle ticking of the second hand.
“Thank you,” Dorian murmured.
“Why is it ticking backwards?” said Frances.
“Mine is doing the same thing,” said Henry. “It started the night of the storm.”
Dorian wrapped the chain around one hand and held the watch fisted in the other. “It’s a Doomsday Clock. It’s counting down to a significant event that will affect all of mankind.”
“Mark,” said Magethna.
“What can we do to stop it?” said William.
“Everything we can,” said Dorian.
Seraphs do not shed tears, but if they could, Magethna would have. The skies opened above them, right on cue. Light drips tinkled on the glass windows and the roof. The rain performed a symphony against the windows and the roof. Its pace quickened and slowed and quickened again with the wind.
“I’m leaving Oxford,” said William. “I feel I should be home now.”
Frances leaned forward.
“Mom, I will go back and finish my degree, but for now I just need to be here. Besides, the action is here, not in England.” He told his parents of his desire to help in the jewelry store.
“Son, I’m glad to have you home now. I know your mom is happy, too.” Henry winked at Frances.
The rain began to let up as the sun peeked through the clouds. Magethna cherished this joyful time, but Dorian stared at his newly-acquired clock, a bittersweet expression on his face. His eyes met hers, and he smiled. They both dreaded the time fast approaching, but for now, they laughed and talked as if nothing could ever go wrong.
13
The Unexpected Visitor
“Our tulips! Someone took our tulips! Josephine, come quick. Someone took our—” the man stopped mid-sentence and looked wildly up and down the street. “Thief!”
“The thief is over here.” The Cherbs pointed to Dagon.
Dagon shot them an angry look, but they ignored him as they continued counting the money that he had thrown to them from his new wallet.
“In the future, can you limit or omit ones and fives? Just stick primarily to tens, twenties, and higher. It makes the counting a lot easier,” said Mr. Cool. The others agreed with loud cheers.
The Cherbs zeroed in on the clumps of dirt which still hung onto the exposed roots, brushing them off and straightening the bouquet. Dagon saw that the man who had inspired this gift of flowers wasn’t faring much better. He stood like a stooge at a door across the street, just like Dagon did in front of Mary’s door. Their prospective girlfriends stared out the peepholes. Seeing no clumps of dirt on the stems of the other man, Dagon began to shake the remaining dirt from his roots, until to his horror he realized that Mary was watching.
Now she’s going to think that I have some kind of spastic disorder or something of greater magnitude.
Between hoots of laughter from Dagon’s rowdy imps, the woman across the street yelled at the man, “Now you come? Why now? You haven't called, and now you just show up unannounced and think that I will take you back?”
Wasn’t Dagon coming unannounced? Just showing up? Expecting Mary to welcome him? What a self-esteem crasher. If the school of hard knocks existed, he would get a capital F. Go back to your hole! Laughter only diminished the memory of William’s jeers to merely an insulting echo.
Shouldn’t the light protect me? What was this light anyway? It was hope. This light permeated the Golden Land. Savila did not want humans to have this light. Savila knew the light, for she was created in it, but in her pride, she abandoned it, in favor of herself. Now she couldn’t even look at it. Perhaps, she’s not as powerful as she believes, but powerful enough to not get cocky. Hiding everything in the light could be the best kept secret from that evil, sulfuric witch.
Well the light had not protected the other man. It would have been better to have a problem, so that maybe Mary would take pity on him. None of this mattered anymore when, to his delight, Mary opened the door and hugged him.
She looked around. “Why is my neighbor screaming?”
Dagon shrugged his shoulders and carefully kept the flowers behind his back.
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive,” came the ominous warning from Mr. Cool.
Mary stepped back, “Why were you gone for two weeks?”
Dagon breathed a sigh of relief, for her expression was calm, not like the other man’s girlfriend. “It was more like two seconds than two weeks.” He winked. Whatever calm Mary had was gone.
“Do you know how many seconds are in a day, a week, or two weeks?”
“Of course, I do, there are one million, two hundred and nine thousand, and six hundred in two weeks, and I used two of yours.” Again, he winked.
His mathematical wit did not help him but seemed to make things worse. Dagon opened his mouth—
“Did you miss me at all?”
“How absurd, of course I missed you.”
Mary puffed her chest and let out a deep sigh, then rolled her eyes. “You missed me so badly, but you didn’t come by? You know where I live, but you haven’t told me where you live or even your last name. I have been going out of my mind. Why didn’t you come by?”
“I’ll explain everything to you, baby. I will.”
Mary seemed somewhat satisfied with this when she threw out a zinger. “Is this how you treated past girlfriends?”
“I never had a girlfriend before.”
“How is that possible? I was so worried about you; I wanted to put up missing person posters.”
With a stifling pause in the air, Dagon presented Mary with the flowers that he held behind his back, hoping that they would smooth everything over.
She smiled sweetly and thanked him. To his dismay, Mary kicked some of the clumps of dirt which fell onto her hardwood floors to the side.
She scrutinized the roots. “Did you pull these tulips from the ground?”
“I did not pull these tulips from the ground.”
“Did you cut them with a knife?”
“Not exactly.” With flair, Dagon showed her the dagger he used to loosen the dirt. This had to be better than if I told her I flat out hacked the roots. Apparently, it didn’t help, for she only wanted to know why he had a dagger in the first place, and again he assured her that he would explain everything.
With a weak smile, she went to get a vase, and she brought it back out, half full of water.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I really did miss you. This was my great-grandmother’s vase from Sweden. It’s very special to me. You can put the flowers in here.”
Touched, he put the flowers in the vase like she asked.
“That’s sweet,” she said and smiled. “Is this why my neighbor was screaming?”
Dagon coyly shrugged.
She let it go and went to put the vase by a window. “I’ve never had a bad memory, but I can’t find one of my gym shoes and a coffee mug is gone.”
“Really, you don’t say, That’s, um … that’s too bad.” Dagon wrung his hands, trying to calm his nerves before she came back. It’s a good thing I didn’t mention the portable phone and …
“Oh, and another strange thing, I cleaned up a banana mess in the kitchen, but I don’t remember eating or spilling it.”
“Huh … isn’t that something. You know, it’s often the mind that goes first.”
“Very funny. So funny I forgot to laugh.”
“You see?”
Mary shook her head.
“We’re keeping our walkie talkies, boss. It would seem even more strange to return them,” rationalized Mr. Cool.
Mary walked back to where Dagon stood.
“You can come in, you know. Mary looked around her porch. “Were you talking to someone?”
“Mary, I think I’ve been here before.” He walked into the open door and glanced around the room. He took a leap of faith, gulped, and cleared his throat. “In fact, I know I have. This house was built in 1903, but I wasn’t in this house until 1951.”
Her smile faltered. “Did you know someone who used to live here?”
“Kind of.”
Mary led him on a tour of her house, for she wanted to know how her house had changed over the years.
He eagerly followed her, but soon he saw rooms filled with dust and clutter. His mind couldn’t get over it. Dusty knickknacks sat on dusty shelves while piles and piles of stuff sat everywhere with magazines haphazardly strewn around. Even a stylish brown suede couch sat as if it screamed for air, and the curtains were peppered with dust. The kitchen, though messy, looked promising to his culinary mind. Well, this is just the downstairs … it’s probably better upstairs.
The upstairs completely overwhelmed him; it was far worse than the downstairs. Spare rooms, her master bedroom, and the bathroom were filthy. After all the centuries of longing to be with his beloved, he had never thought of what she would be like. With a gulp, though he loved her, he saw their differences and many hours of cleaning ahead.
Her walk-in closet appeared to be neat with one whole side cleared. Still though, it needed some work. Her bed, though made, wouldn’t win any awards. A rag doll with yellow yarn hair lay by the headboard and an old gray stuffed cat sat crouched and slouched on her window ledge.
“Do you like the doll and the cat? What’s the story about these?”
“Christmas gifts from my parents. The cat is a guardian knight, my protector.” Taking the cat off the ledge, Mary showed Dagon the cat’s heart-shaped tag on a red collar. The front of the tag was written in black crayon. Her sweet childish penmanship still looked crisp for its age and read, “Frosty.” The back side read, “Loved by Mary.”