Chapter 32

  I saw it all, in a fog of emotions that made it hard to find the truth behind them. I watched him touch the box and disappear, after I took the weak, mortal form and used it to defy him. After I surprised the demon and pulled him away, giving them the precious seconds they needed. The other one had fled when he went in, his own power diminished by losing his master. He had taken his toy with him.

  I saw it all. The Outcast approaching the girl, Sarah. Her words to him, not the girl’s words but his. I knew what he was going to do. I knew what he had to do, for another had done it before. The Box had flashed in a vaporous blue light, the cracks had sealed, and she had been stricken with such grief, she had let it fall to the floor. It landed, bounced a few times, and sat alone in the darkness.

  She had looked around then, confused, lost, and scared. The Outcast tried to speak to her, but she screeched at him and clawed at his face until he backed away, and vanished. She thought she was alone, but then other mortals started entering the building, confused, looking for answers. She had snatched up the Box and ran, pushing through them. Where was she headed?

  The Were had fallen to the Beast’s power, but the Beast was gone, and now he woke. The mortals wouldn’t remember him. He put his nose to the air, found the scent, and gave chase.

  I don’t know how it had come to this. I don’t know where most of these emotions had been born. I could remember pain, and sadness, and anger, and desperation. I could remember bright, white light, and finding myself outside of my body, floating in the ether, a consciousness without form. I could recall the change, the shift, the lust turning to love, the anger turning to compassion. I didn’t understand it, and I still couldn’t, yet I felt its compulsion all the same.

  Landon had been there, crouched over the Outcast, along with another like him, and Sarah. He had looked towards me, with pain in his eyes. I had tried to go to him, but I felt like I was floating, not running. I had flowed in his direction, but there was no recognition in his eyes. They looked right through me. He couldn’t see.

  I was caught in the energy. I could feel it running through me. I could see the colors of it, the power of Purgatory, power that knew only one owner, that could only have ever responded to one. It was a power I hadn’t understood, but it moved through me as though I were no more than energy myself. It swirled around me, and then I was somewhere else. A field. They were still there.

  Every part of me wanted to cry out, to tell him I was there, and that I loved him. I knew I couldn’t. I also knew my love had been no love at all. Lust, desire, and hunger, but not love. Before, there had been no other meaning to the word. Now, it was all clear. I could feel His touch, somehow. I could feel His warmth. How could that be?

  I watched him go, into the house with Sarah and the one I had known as the Demon Queen. I didn’t follow. There was so much between us. So much I had done that couldn’t be undone. If He willed it, one day I would have the chance to apologize. For now, if I were to care for him, I could protect him. But how?

  I stayed the night, right outside the house. I was there when the Beast arrived. I tried to stop him, but I had nothing in this form. Nothing but thought, emotion, and vision. I couldn’t touch him, or hurt him. He didn’t even know I was there. None of them did.

  It wasn’t until we reached Florence that I discovered I could gain physical form only through a mortal shell. Landon was being attacked, and I was desperate to help him. It was that emotion that drove me to a man sitting at a restaurant table. I felt my energy passing through him, and then I saw the light of his soul. I took hold of it, wrapped that desperation around it, and then I was looking through his eyes.

  Mortals are weak, and they are slow. They are easily tired, easily destroyed. Their muscles are limited, a large majority of their bodies out of shape. In the past, I had held disdain for them. They were good only as a food source for the superior race. Now, even with those limitations, I found myself intrigued. I could see the man’s memories. I could feel his emotions. I found respect for their complexity, and understanding for their plight. Maybe I knew Landon in a new way, then. Maybe I cared for him more. Either way, I had used the form to tackle one of the weres that chased him. It wasn’t much, and the demon had killed my host with little effort, but it had slowed him down.

  From there on, I had followed, always with him, or a step behind. I had seen the Beast’s ambush on the train. I had pulled the brakes and stopped them short, giving him as much warning as I could. Being limited to controlling of mortals was difficult, for they rightly ran away from the Divine.

  Then, in the depths of a warehouse in Japan, I had found my chance, my own true opportunity to try to reveal myself to him. To show him I was there where he couldn’t reject me. I had taken the body of the girl, Elyse. I had fought him, with all the strength and fervor the mortal flesh would allow. I had played the role of the daughter well, and as he left I kissed him, hoping it would stir his memories, and open his eyes to my true form.

  He barely noticed.

  It was the way he looked at her. He had never looked at me that way. There had been lust, his as much as mine, but that was all. It was that lust that I had believed was love, but he never knew me well enough to love me. Just as I didn’t know him well enough to truly love him. Yet, I cared. I cared that I had betrayed him, that I had helped the Beast to escape, that I had caused him pain. I could see in his eyes that he loved her. I could see when they looked at one another that they knew. Even though they never directly showed it or said it. I couldn’t compete with that, and realized I didn’t want to.

  To truly cherish something is to do everything in your power to see it reach its greatest potential.

  Such thoughts had never been mine before. They’d been lost in a hunger for control, a thirst for power, a desire of flesh and blood. They’d been buried beneath the promises the Beast had made to me, promises that I had fooled myself into believing would come to pass, right up until he plunged the sword into my heart.

  That was it, I knew. The sword. It had glowed with white heat, searing my heart. Uncovering the layers of darkness and deceit, pulling them apart like petals on a black rose. Beneath was a heart that could feel, all of the emotions He had given His creations, though they had been twisted by his son’s misunderstanding.

  I followed, and I waited. I knew my time would come, my chance would come to make good on my new heart’s desire to atone for my sins, and to save the man who had ignited the first spark of emotion within me.

  It was that look. That final look he had given me before we left the prison. Despite what I had done, he still cared. Forgiveness existed, if only I had the strength and will to look for it, and ask for it.

  He had given me hope and catalyzed my redemption.

  I would be his salvation.

  Book Four: Bound

  Chapter 1

  It started in a way I could never have expected it to. It started with, of all things, an alarm clock.

  To be more specific, it was a clock radio; one of those kinds with the big blue LEDs that plugged into the wall. What year was this anyway? The song was ‘Man in the Box’ by Alice in Chains. I felt like that should have meant something to me, but it didn’t.

  I kept my eyes closed. Something told me I shouldn’t open them. Something in me made me afraid. Of what? The truth? That couldn’t be right. It fled as soon as I heard the soft groan of contentment on my left.

  “Landon, are you going to shut that thing up?”

  I twisted my head in the direction of the voice and willed my eyelids to lift. I was greeted with a vision of beauty; long, silken black hair framing a heart-shaped face. Violet eyes still half-closed, looking at me, filled with a gentle mirth. A perfect, white smile behind soft, full lips.

  “Yeah,” I said, returning her smile. I bent back the other way and hunted for the snooze button with my hand, smacking it down at random in the general vicinity of the sound. It took me a few tries, but I turned it off.

  I blinked a few times, and tried to remember whatever it was that I had been feeling only a few moments before. It was like that was real and this was the dream, but I knew that couldn’t be true.

  “Are you okay?” she asked me. She sat up, holding the sheets to her chest more out of habit than modesty, and ran her fingers through my hair.

  “You don’t feel… I don’t know… strange?” I asked her. “Like you’re dreaming?”

  “I always feel like I’m dreaming lately.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Snap out of it, love. We have a plane to catch.”

  She threw the covers off of her and onto me, hiding my view of her perfection beneath the down. Normally, I would have rushed to get the blankets off so I could catch one last glimpse before she vanished into the bathroom. Today, I hesitated. Why did everything feel so wrong?

  I heard the usual morning sounds; using the bathroom, brushing the teeth. Then the tinkle of the shower. It was the sound of the falling water that broke me from the trance. I threw the covers aside and slipped out of bed, taking only a few seconds to stare out the window at the crystal blue ocean outside. A white sand beach preceded it, empty but for a few gulls standing lookout.

  Tahiti, I remembered. We were in Tahiti. We had come for vacation, two weeks of bliss away from the day-to-day. Some time to be alone, to reconnect and recharge. Time for just the two of us.

  “Landon, are you coming?” she asked.

  I stopped looking at the beach and at the blue ocean beyond. As I turned to head towards the bathroom, I could swear one of the gulls was looking at me.

  It was a stupid thought. I laughed at myself and entered the bathroom, emptying my bladder before joining my wife in the double-stalled shower. Not that we used half of it anyway, but it had come with the hut. As usual, I caught my breath on the sight of her.

  “Anxious to go home?” she asked, leaning in and kissing me. “Good morning.”

  I didn’t know. For an instant, I forgot where home was and that there was anything waiting for me there that would have made it worth going back to. My hesitation drew attention.

  “You aren’t okay, are you? What’s up?”

  I tried to sputter out something, anything. I shook my head and shrugged. “Just a dream,” I said. “The strangest dream. I guess I’m not awake yet.”

  She took my shower puff, squeezed some soap out onto it, lathered it up, and threw a perfect beanball. It made a solid squishing noise when it smacked into my forehead. Eyes closed in defense, I caught the puff on the way down.

  “Wake up,” she said, laughing.

  I laughed with her and tried to get myself together.

  Excited. I should be excited. We’d spent the last two weeks alone, which meant two weeks without Clara. She could be a handful sometimes, but what would anyone expect from a six year-old? She was also a ball of loving energy, and the second most important woman in my life. Two weeks without her had been relaxing, but Charis was right. I was anxious to go home.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Not as anxious as you are, I bet.”

  “You know I love you, but part of me has missed her since we got here.”

  I couldn’t, and didn’t blame her. “It’s been a lot of fun though,” I said.

  She looked me in the eyes, a sly smile on her face. “It’s been ten years since our honeymoon. I think we earned it. Now hurry up.”

  Ten years, and yet she didn’t look a day older to me. We finished the shower and I stepped out onto the marble floor and caught a peep of myself in the mirror. I looked pretty good, too.

  “What time is the flight?” I asked, heading into the bedroom to grab my clothes.

  “Twelve-thirty. We have half an hour to get dressed and check out. The cab should be on its way.”

  I nodded even though she couldn’t see it, and pulled open the top drawer to the dresser. One outfit for each of us rested there. A pair of underwear, socks, designer jeans and a dark blue polo shirt for me. A white sun-dress for her.

  “You’re going to freeze when we get back to New York,” I said. I had already questioned her choice of return dress a few times, so I was sure I was going to hear it.

  “Shut up,” she replied. “I’m a big girl. Between the airport, the car, and the apartment, we’re only going to be outside for a few minutes anyway. Besides, it isn’t that cold in October.”

  I smiled and slipped on my clothes, and then went back to the window to get one more good look at the ocean before Charis finished drying her hair and dressing. The gulls were still standing along the sand, though a pair had found something to fight over. They squawked and chased one another, leaving an empty gap for a third bird to swoop in and steal the prize. I couldn’t see what it was, but did it matter anyway?

  “Do you think Clara had fun with your mom?” Charis asked, stepping up behind and wrapping her arms around me. I took them from the front and held them to my chest.

  “I’m sure she’s had loads of fun,” I replied. My mother had been difficult for me to deal with as a son. She was a doting grandparent.

  She pulled her arms away and went over to the dresser to grab her clothes. I didn’t take my eyes off the beach. There was something about the waves that was hypnotizing. The way they lapped in at the shore, the last remnants running up the sand and forcing some of the gulls to either get their feet wet or step out of the way. Peering further out, the water looked strange - as if it were moving backwards. I blinked a few times and was going to point it out to Charis when a gull swooped down and landed on the sill right in front of me, squawking loudly and looking up with red eyes.

  “What the…” I stumbled backwards, and the bird made a noise, almost like laughter, and took off again, vanishing into the sky.

  “It’s just a bird,” Charis said, laughing. “You’ve never been afraid of birds before.”

  “Did you see its eyes?” I asked.

  “No.”

  There was something about those eyes. Bird eyes were black, not red. Part of me knew there was a reason for it, but it was an idea I couldn’t catch onto.

  She finished dressing and we grabbed our bags and headed out of the hut, along a paved walkway to the hotel. It was all open-air, with a simple thatch roof to keep the rain off and plenty of ceiling fans to cool the visitors. An attendant greeted us there. He took our bags and brought them around front where the taxi would pick us up while we checked out at the front desk.

  By the time we were done paying the cab had arrived and the attendant had loaded our two suitcases into the trunk. We didn’t say much, and he didn’t say much, because the language barrier was too thick. He smiled and bobbed his head when I handed him some cash. That was a universal language.

  A forty minute drive to the small airport, another two hours to sit together while we waited for our flight - a sixteen hour red-eye that would see Clara in our arms sometime tomorrow afternoon. We passed the time playing games on our tablet and looking at the photos we had taken. We would both have fun telling Clara all about our adventures.

  The plane ride was uneventful. We flew through a couple of heavy thunderstorms that bounced us around a bit, but I had zero fear of flying and the turbulence was more like an amusement park ride. Charis got a little nauseous, but she held it together pretty well, even finding a few hours of sleep between the chaos and the calm. Still, when we finally touched down in JFK, she was ready to kiss the dirt.

  I called my mother the moment the pilot said it was safe to do so. Clara picked up.

  “Hello,” she said, in her little chipmunk voice.

  “Hello,” I said, making my voice deeper and more raspy.

  She laughed, not falling for it. “Daddy!” the shout hurt my ear, in the best way possible. “Are you coming to Nana’s?”

  “Of course, sweetie. We’re at the airport. We’ll be there before you can blink.”

  “I blinked,” she said. “You’re not here.”

  I chuckled and gave Charis the phone. There had been no service on the resort in Tahiti, so she hadn’t heard Clara’s voice since we’d taken off in the opposite direction. She had tears in her eyes while she talked to her.

  They let us off and we were surprised to find a limo waiting to pick us up, courtesy of Nana. I expected her to dote on Clara. Treating us to something was a surprise.

  My mother lived in Harlem, in a fairly decent mid-rise where crime was lower than average, and the schools were pretty good. We’d moved there right before puberty, and it was there that I had started the life of electronic crime that had brought Charis and I together, an act of carelessness that I still considered the best mistake I had ever made. I took her hand and squeezed it, thinking about the day we had met at the Museum of Natural History, when she had come to lay eyes on the chalices I had been assigned to watch over. She had been amazing then, and she was amazing now.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. The inside of the car was nearly silent, outside of the messages pouring through the radio to the driver up front.

  I smiled and looked at her. “You do?”

  “You always get all sappy when we visit your mom. I’ve never seen anyone else so happy to have been incarcerated.”

  Of course, it hadn’t made things easy for us. I couldn’t get a job in anything that remotely touched computers, which had left my greatest asset wallowing. Instead, we survived on the salary of a Senior Security Officer for Macy’s. The pay wasn’t that bad, but we liked living in the hustle and bustle of the city.

  “I wouldn’t have met you otherwise,” I replied.

  She laughed. “Yup. Sappy.”

  The car glided to a stop outside of the apartment and we exited while the kids outside stared at us, mouths hanging open. They hadn’t seen too many limos in their neighborhood and the fact that it didn’t drop us off and leave made it an even bigger spectacle.

  We took the stairs up to the sixth floor. My mom lived in apartment sixty-six. ‘Route Sixty-six’ she always called it. She’d gone as far as to decorate with lots of relevant Americana - road signs, license plates, photos of the Grand Canyon, that kind of stuff. My mom was a little wacky.