by S. J. West
“So she was flirting with you and hoping food was the way to your heart?”
Coltan shrugs. “Either that or my pocketbook. I’m sure the moment she discovers I’m scriptless is the moment her interest in me will vanish into thin air.”
“Is that the way you see everyone who befriends you? That they want something from you instead of wishing to get to know you?”
“I suppose when you grow up in a family as wealthy as mine, you become jaded about how other people treat you. I’ve constantly had to watch out for those who only wanted to be my friend because they thought they could get something from me. It wasn’t a good way to grow up because it made me skeptical of everyone I met.”
“That sounds like a horrible way to go through life,” I say. “I wonder if I would have had to deal with the same issues if my father hadn’t died. Maybe that’s one reason he kept me so close to him and only allowed me to be around certain people.”
“More than likely,” Coltan agrees. “My father was continually warning me not to trust people unless they earned it.”
“That’s actually good advice,” I reply. “What did your mother tell you to do?”
“She tended to view people a little differently. She wasn’t exactly gullible, but she did place her faith in people who didn’t deserve it sometimes.”
“I realize I only met her ghost, but she seemed nice. I wish I could have gotten to know her while she was alive.”
“She would have liked you,” Coltan says with certainty. “Which is saying a lot because she never approved of anyone I went out with.”
“Have you dated many women?” I ask, hoping he’ll say he’s been single most of his life.
“More than a little. Less than a lot,” he replies with a grin.
“Were any of them serious girlfriends?”
He looks out over the river to the grove of orange trees beyond. “No. I normally didn’t go on more than two dates with a girl. If you take a woman out more than that, she becomes too attached, and I didn’t want to bring someone else into my life until after I had my future sorted out.”
“Is it sorted out now?” I ask, feeling hopeful that the answer will be yes, even though I would never openly admit that to him.
“It’s getting there,” he replies, turning my way with a grin. “I think my mother would be proud of me for leaving and building a life of my own that my father doesn’t have any control over. She was always encouraging me to follow my heart, so that’s what I did today. I’ve been so miserable on the other side of town for so many years now. Over here, I finally feel like I belong and can truly be me for the first time. I wish I had made the move sooner, but then again, I’m grateful I was there for my mother in the end. I would have felt guilty if I hadn’t been there during her last days, even though she couldn’t hear a word I said while she was in her coma.”
“She did hear you,” I tell him. “I should have said this earlier, but she told me that she did hear you talk to her. She mentioned that you talked a lot about me after we got back from the island.”
“I did,” he says without batting an eye. “I told her everything I knew about you, and I told her how I felt about you. I’m glad she heard me before she died. At least she left this world knowing that I finally found someone to love.”
“You say that so easily,” I say, marveling at his certainty that we’re meant for each other.
“It’s easy for me to say that about you because it’s the truth,” he replies without any doubt. “I’ve never said it about anyone else I’ve been with, and I realize it makes you uncomfortable to hear me say it sometimes, but I’m not going to sit here and lie about how I feel about you, Cin. I will always be honest with you. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”
“I don’t either,” I say. “And because of that, I have to tell you something that’s bothering me.”
Coltan looks worried. “What is it?”
“You have mayonnaise on your chin,” I tell him with a straight face.
Coltan looks puzzled for a moment before he finally lifts his right hand to his chin and discovers the dollop of mayonnaise. He laughs and wipes it off his hand and onto the outside of the empty paper bag.
“Well, hey, at least you care enough about me not to let me go around with mayonnaise on my chin,” he says with a chuckle.
“I care about you more than that,” I reply, feeling that I owe him the same amount of honesty. “But you’re going to have to give me some time, Coltan.”
“I’m in no hurry,” he tells me. “I’m not going anywhere, and we have a lot of work to do in the next few days. At least, I presume you’re going to let me help you with your quest.”
“I’m counting on you helping me with it,” I say with a sigh as the weight of the city’s future rests solely on me. “Actually, I think we’re going to need a lot of help. Hopefully tomorrow I can bring everyone else up to speed with what’s going on and we can go from there.”
“Do you think Isabel will feel up to helping you?”
“Not until after her father wakes up. I hope he isn’t as crazy as people think he is, but from what Commander Ford told me, he pretty much lost his mind when he came back from this hidden world he found.”
“How did he seem when you talked to his spirit?”
“Extremely coherent,” I say, thinking back on the encounter. “He seemed in control of himself, but I have no idea what will happen when he wakes up inside his own body.”
“I wonder if he’ll remember speaking to you while he was dead,” Coltan ponders.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
We sit there in mutual silence while we listen to the water flow from the waterfall into the magic stream. Coltan’s eyes become unfocused as his mind drifts off to think about something else.
“Are you thinking about your mother?” I ask him, remembering what Kalder said to me about Coltan needing time to deal with his mother’s death.
Coltan comes out of his reverie and looks over at me.
“I was,” he states.
“Could you tell me about her?” I ask, opening up a doorway of communication between us and giving him a safe place to unburden his heart and mind as he grieves her passing.
“I would like that,” he says, sounding grateful to finally have someone he can talk to about the woman who gave him life and who also seemed like an emotional anchor for him in this world.
Coltan and I talk for at least a couple of hours about his childhood and how it was more his mother’s influence in his life than his father’s that shaped him into the man he is today. While I listen to him talk about her, I feel envious of his close relationship with his mom. I wonder what my life would have been like if my mother had survived my birth. I’m sure I wouldn’t be a Thorn right now, but what would I be doing? I could see myself working at the Guild, but I don’t have any special gifts or magical talent.
Once Coltan runs out of things to tell me about his mom, I suggest we go back to Kane Hall so he can get some sleep for the next day’s activities.
I explain my thoughts about the following day to him on our way out. “After I explain everything to everyone else, I’m going to Shadowspire to see what I can find out about Henry’s arrest and mental breakdown. I think Gus can look up any records concerning what Isabel’s father was working on at the time he claims to have gone to this other world.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Coltan agrees. “Maybe her father will be awake tomorrow and he can give us the information we need.”
“Even if he does wake up, I’m not sure how reliable his memories will be. It all depends on if he really is crazy or not.”
“I hope for Isabel’s sake that he isn’t.”
“Me too.”
When we reach the front of Kane Hall, I shut off my car’s engine and wait for Coltan to say his “good night” to me, but he doesn’t move. He just sits there looking like he wants to say something to me but doesn’t know how to start.
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“What’s wrong?” I ask him. His face is cast in shadows from the porch lights in front of the building.
“I . . . uh . . .” he begins while wringing his hands. “I was wondering if you would stay here with me tonight.”
“Why?” I ask, trying to not read into his question too much.
He finally meets my gaze and says, “I don’t want to be alone. That probably sounds stupid to you, but I don’t want to be by myself on my first night here.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid,” I reassure him. “I’ll stay.”
A look of relief washes over his face, and we both get out of my car and walk over to the front door. Coltan opens it for me, and I walk through first. Once we reach the second landing, butterflies invade my stomach and sleep is the last thing on my mind.
“Why don’t you go lie down and get some rest?” I suggest to him. “I think I’ll stay up for a little while longer and read through some of the books you brought.”
“Do you want me to help?” he asks even as he yawns.
I smile. “No. Go get some sleep. I’ll be in Maximus’s study if you need me.”
“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Coltan walks into my room here at Maximus’s residence, and I hope he’s able to get some rest. I go to the study and place my hand on the door. As soon as I twist the doorknob, I hear movement come from inside the room. Since no one is supposed to be in there, I reach down for the dagger inside my right boot and rush into the room to catch the culprit red-handed. The first thing I notice is one of the books Coltan brought floating about three feet high in the air. As if whatever is holding it suddenly darts off, the book falls to the floor with a loud thump. I do a quick scan of the room, but I don’t see anyone physically present.
“Hello?” I ask. “Is someone in here?”
Silence responds back to me, but it’s completely possible that the person could still be in the room and using magic to hide themselves from me. Books don’t float in the air without some help.
I keep my dagger in my hand as I walk over and pick up the tome. It’s one of the newer ones among the collection. I flip through it until I get to the last page that was written on in the middle of the book. I walk over to Maximus’s desk and turn on his lamp to see if my eyes are playing tricks on me. The ink on the page looks fresh and the words newly written. I must have interrupted whoever was writing in it because the latest inscription isn’t complete.
I read it out loud in case the person who wrote it is still present.
“On angel’s wings will she rise until the ghost of The One returns. Not until she collects the angels’ treasures will all know peace and the truth of what once was and shall never be again. After the—” The writing ends there. I look up from the book and ask whatever unseen hand wrote these words a question. “Don’t you want to finish what you started?”
I lay the book down on top of Maximus’s desk as an open invitation to whoever is writing down all the information in these books. It’s obvious to me now that a magical creature must be the scribe of all of the information, but how does it know what to write and when? I can only assume it’s writing about Briar Rose and the other two women I’m supposed to find. I suspect they are probably angels too, even though she didn’t say as much to me and, in my dream, they didn’t have wings on their backs. It seemed like a logical assumption to me when she called the other women her sisters.
“I’m sorry I interrupted you,” I apologize. “I can see now that you’re only trying to help us. I’ll leave this book here on the page you were working on in case you change your mind and want to finish it for us.”
I walk away from the desk. I don’t want to leave because I want to see if the creature will come out while I’m still inside the room. Maybe I just startled it with my unexpected arrival. If it doesn’t show up soon, I’ll leave the room for a while to let it finish its work.
I grab one of the other books at random and sit on the large leather couch in the room. I lie down on it like I’m relaxing and open the book in my hands to the first page. A half hour passes by and it doesn’t seem like the writer of the tomes will make another appearance with me in the room. I end up becoming sleepy as I read and lay the book in my hands on the floor before curling up on the couch and drifting off to sleep.
Sometime later, I’m woken up by the feel of something being draped over me. When I open my eyes, I see Coltan standing beside the couch as he gently lays a throw blanket on top of me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, finding it hard to keep my eyes open as the lure of sleep tugs on my mind as it attempts to drag me back down into its murky depths.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he tells me as he crouches down beside the couch to push a few wayward strands of my hair off my exposed cheek. “I came in here to see what you were doing.”
“Sleeping,” I tell him with a lazy smile. “The exact thing you should be doing right now. Why can’t you sleep?”
Coltan shrugs his shoulders. “New place I suppose, and I haven’t slept on a mattress since my mother got sick. I guess I got used to sleeping in a chair next to her bed.”
“You were a good son,” I tell him.
“I hope she thought so,” he replies.
I pull out my right hand from underneath my head and hold it out to him. He grasps it with one of his without even thinking about it.
“Come here,” I say as I scoot over on the large couch. “This thing is as big as a twin-size bed. We can both sleep on it.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, looking surprised by my offer. “I wouldn’t want to crowd you. I remember how you feel about cramped spaces.”
“Big room, big couch,” I reply, rubbing my eyes. “Come on. We both need sleep.”
Coltan stands up and grabs a couple of throw pillows from the chairs by the fireplace. He places one underneath my head and then lays the second one beside it for himself. I raise the blanket he just draped over me, inviting him to join me underneath its warmth. As he lays his tall frame down next to mine, I rest my left arm on his chest and breathe in the scent of him. He has a woodsy smell that’s soothing.
“Thank you,” he whispers to me. “Maybe I can get some sleep now.”
I slide my left arm up until I can place my index finger against his slightly parted lips.
“Shh,” I tell him. “If you keep talking, neither of us will ever get any sleep.”
His lips stretch into a smile underneath my finger after hearing my admonishment. He kisses my finger just before I remove it, causing my body to tingle even more than it already is with our close contact.
“Sweet dreams,” he whispers to me before sighing contentedly as he settles in to get some rest.
Just before I fall back into the veil of unconsciousness, I hear Coltan softly snore. I smile at the sound because I find it encouraging to know I was able to help him relax. Neither of us had a very good day. If truth be told, it was probably one of the worst days of my life, but I take solace that tomorrow has to be better, or at least I hope so.
Chapter 10
The next morning, before I open my eyes, I know Coltan isn’t resting beside me because a chill has replaced his calming warmth. When I do open my eyes, they are immediately drawn to Coltan like magnets to metal as he sits in the chair behind Maximus’s desk. His brow is furrowed as he reads something in the book I left open last night.
“How long have you been awake?” I ask drowsily as I toss the blanket covering me off and sit up on the couch.
He tears his gaze away from the book to give me his full attention.
“Not long,” he says. “I had a leg cramp, so I needed to get up and walk it out. Then I noticed this book. Did you leave it here last night?”
“Yeah, about that,” I say as I stand up and walk over to him. “You won’t believe what I saw when I walked in here last night.”
Looking intrigued, he sits back in the chair and says, “Try me. What did you see?”
> “I saw this book floating about three feet off the floor right over there,” I say, pointing to a spot about four feet in front of the desk. “When I walked in here, it was like an invisible being dropped it and ran away faster than I could see them do it.”
“That is strange,” he says, considering my account of the bizarre event. “And you’re sure no one else was in the room?”
“Not that I could see,” I reply. “Right before I opened the door, I heard a noise come from inside. Have you seen anything strange since you’ve been awake?”
Coltan shakes his head. “Not really, but this verse in the book looks like it was just written. The ink is still wet.”
I look down at the page and notice that more words have been added to what I read the night before.
“On angel’s wings will she rise until the ghost of The One returns,” I read aloud. “Not until she collects the treasures will all know peace and the truth of what once was and shall never be again. After the fall of angels, the world will unravel, and all the sins humanity has wrought shall be revealed.”
“The ‘she’ it’s referring to has to be you, right?” Coltan asks. “You’re the one who will be collecting the treasures.”
“That’s my assumption,” I say. “But it doesn’t sound very uplifting to me. These verses sound more like a warning.”
“Not all of it,” he tells me, sounding more optimistic than I do about what’s written. “It says once you collect the treasures, all will know peace. That’s certainly good.”
“Yeah, but ‘the world will unravel’?” I point out. “And ‘all the sins humanity has wrought’? Those words don’t inspire much hope.”
Coltan closes the book as if hiding me from the words will make me forget them for a little while. “Whatever wrote this obviously has some sort of connection to the books no matter where they are being kept. I don’t think we should be frightened of it though. If it meant either of us any harm, it would have attacked you the moment you stepped through the door or attacked us both while we slept in here last night.”
