Airel. Part 10

Chapter x.x.xI.

Boise, Idaho. Present day.

When the door opened and I saw Michael Alexander stand up stiffly, I stood paralyzed, hoping with everything in me that what I feared was not happening, that this was al just a bad dream. He was staring at me with an unsettling mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Your head... the..." His voice was soft, questioning and scared. "It's gone, I mean it just disappeared!" He reached out, muttering something incoherent, trying to touch my forehead. But I ducked and took a step backward. He lowered his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest.

"Airel-"

My mind refused to function. Despite the fact that I needed it more than ever at this very moment, it hid like a stupid kid on his first day of school, refusing to come out from under the bed. Should I pretend that I didn't know what was happening? Play innocent? Or should I fess up to the only person I was comfortable fessing up to about this subject? Why can't I let myself bring Kim in on all this? But with him... I looked at the gorgeous guy standing before me. Maybe I knew deep down that he would understand it... or me. If that was possible. There was no getting around it, though-I was a turncoat. A backstabbing fiend, for sure, because I was total y trashing the feelings of my best friend for...some dude...

I reached a trembling hand to my forehead and touched the place where, seconds ago, a large goose-egg throbbed. It was smooth, cool to the touch.

Healed.

I stood there with my best impression of a confused, blank look on my face. I looked up at Michael, who was standing so close to me now that I could smel his skin.

"I, uh..." The bril iant words that flowed from my lips in that moment would have made the great poets of the world stop, slack-jawed, and gaze at me in wonder and amazement at the bril iance of my answer. Michael had a tentative hand on my forehead and touched ever so gently the spot where my fatty welt used to be.

"Does it hurt?"

"No..." I responded, leaving al kinds of loose ends. What blanks would he fil in?

"Weird, it's gone. Like it was never there. You sure that doesn't hurt?" He pressed harder to test out his theory.

I pul ed away, breaking free, and scowled at him. "Wel ...what. So it's gone. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought it was. Maybe I didn't hit it that hard anyway." Pretty weak, lame and worst of al , chock ful of maybe. It sounded like a lie to my own ears, and from the grimace on Michael's face, I knew that he didn't believe a word of it either.

"Come on, Airel, what's going on? You know more than you're letting on and now you're lying to me." He sounded angry and a little hurt as wel . I sighed loudly and pul ed on a few strands of my hair, and shoved my left hand in my back pocket.

I decided right then that I was going to tel Michael everything and hold nothing back.

I could not stop thinking about him and was afraid that if I didn't let him in on everything I would lose him. Lovers don't have secrets-right? And that's what we were becoming, quickly. How could I keep secrets from him?

I didn't want to lose something with him that, at this point, hadn't even happened yet. I didn't want to risk the destruction of something that felt so fragile in my heart, especial y by keeping such an important part of myself from him. He might even be able to help me. I knew I was reaching for reasons to keep him close.

I sighed, surrendering. "Michael... I'l tel you on our date." Hook, line, and sinker. "I just need some time to think things over." I nearly begged him with my tone of voice, "Please don't be mad! And don't worry, I'm fine. I promise I wil tel you whatever you want to know. Just not now."

Uh-oh. I had promised. And when I promise things, planets start to pop out of their orbits. It's serious business. That's what this was now, things were getting...complicated.

He looked at me with a calculating gaze. Then, as if weighing his options, nodded with a smal smile. "Okay." He took my hands in his and enfolded them. "But you promise to tel me everything?"

"I promise."

Chapter x.x.xII.

Eagle, Idaho. Present day.

The picture above the bed was large. It was an original painting; the master who had produced it unknown. On the canvas, simply depicted, was a drawn sword. It stood against a black background, alive, shining and luminescent even as a representation in oils. It was the Sword of Light. It hung above the ma.s.sive bed in a stone alcove in an ornate bedroom of immense size; the architecture ancient, stately.

A kil er lay sweating under the painting, spittle dripping, tears flowing from twitching eyes. The mattress, as wel as the thick blanket that covered him, was damp with the manifestation of his toil. The room was wel above ninety degrees, but he stil shivered. His hair plastered itself wet against his scalp.

He was more than simply sick.

The things he saw within his bedroom made him consider death as an exit strategy for peace. But he wondered if what was swimming in s.p.a.ce above his bed would fol ow him when he left this world.

There were three lizard-like demons flying about the room. The two smal er ones were birdlike, over ten feet long at ful length. The third was twice that in size, with huge sharp spines rising from its back. One of its wings was torn and around its neck pulsed the red glow of molten stone. The character of this pendant was decidedly unholy. Upon the face of the creature, if such a thing can have such a name, was the embodiment of hatred, the essence of malice, the expression of self-prost.i.tution to vengeance at any cost.

The demon stood, legs spread on the bed, straddling the man, who was curled into the fetal position. It wielded a long curved dagger, which it moved slowly downward; calculatingly, obsessively, until the tip touched the kil er's chest.

With greater force but no greater speed, the tip of the dagger pierced the blanket, the shirt, the skin, the ribs, and blood began to boil outward from the wound, against the dagger, accompanied by spitting smoke as two realms came into col ision. The wings were vibrating with hideous pleasure.

The kil er struggled, trying to escape but unable. He turned his face toward his enemy, with bulging eyes. The big demon was fixed with burning, red eyes as a hunter fixes on his prey. It was an apparition of black smoke mixed with tar, dripping as if wet.

Sickly green smoke came in bursts from the snout of the thing. It crouched, hovering just inches from the face of the tortured kil er. The pulsing red stone dangled and came to rest upon his chest. The dripping maw housed hundreds of sharp teeth, discolored by putrid breath and coated in filth. Two horns sprouted from the top of its skul and enshrouded its face protectively. A long thin tongue slithered out and caressed the face of the kil er.

The kil er flinched and whimpered something unintel igible. The demon smiled above him and laid back its ears, ripping a scream through the air and the kil er's very soul.

Tengu seized the kil er's shoulders and its claws dug in. The glowing eyes of the demon flared brighter, singing eternal death. The kil er cried out for mercy. Tengu shoved a closed fist into his chest and slithered into the kil er's body as if it were a pool of water, not a body of flesh. The sharp tail disappeared with a snap and a twist.

Bolting upright in his bed, soaked, a kil er opened his own eyes, gasping for breath as if surfacing in the sea. He was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a hammer, his right hand curled as if grasping a weapon. Heavy in his mind, glowering and cloudy, he beheld a rotting, staring hooded face -one of the very few things that could cause him real terror-but he would not speak name or t.i.tle tonight. It has to be tonight or never-there is no more time.

Chapter I.

1250 B.C. The City of Ke'elei Kreios knew firsthand Who it was that had His large, powerful, hand under the universe. It is-was-wil be-G.o.d; the Most High. Kreios had looked into His eyes and saw the flame of fire that burned there. He felt the Presence and in those eyes he saw more than he could ever say in one lifetime -even a lifetime as long as his would be.

Kreios feared G.o.d in a way that gave bedrock meaning to the word. The Al -Powerful Knowing Master that ruled and reigned could, in an instant, know every choice that would be made in a single life. Even the earth knew Who had spun it into existence. Kreios knew Him as El, or the power of El. The saying was true that El was all in all.

Kreios's thinking was best done in the air, where the cool scent of the earth fil ed his nostrils and mind. He could think clear thoughts in the blank canvas above, where the land below rippled in undulations and trees seemed to grow from nothing, in an order known only to El.

He was glad that Maria, wife to his beloved brother, was safe-and his daughter as wel , in the hidden city at Ke'elei. Most simply cal ed it, "The City."

No more was ever needed. It was the most beautiful place on earth. A long val ey of tal green gra.s.s led up to it in a lush carpet, shouting out with the truest color he had seen since he left home.

They had been in The City for two days now, and Kreios took his morning flight over the vast val ey that lay nestled between snow-capped peaks rising sharply, like teeth, toward the sky. On the north end was a sheer cliff of rusty red that stood in stark contrast to the calm green val ey. It reminded Kreios of what he had seen in parts of the world where deserts gripped the earth and the sun was king.

He turned and surveyed the city from the sky. He was just a speck against the light blue and as he looked down he admired the thick fortress wal s that ran along the boundary edge of the great city. They were laid with white stones, each one as big as a vil age house, five or six stones high, arcing smoothly in a line. The City was hemmed in to the north by the cliff, to the south by the wal , and to east and west by the mountains.

Horses and chariots would race side by side on the top of the wal at the year-end festival. Great oaks and elms tangled with the deepness of an unknown forest at its base, and giant ancient redwoods towered in front, hiding the city from the view of anyone in the val ey below. The City fathers had planned wel for its defense, making it impenetrable to any known a.s.sault.

Behind the wal s, the city spread like a delicate flower over the fertile soil of the val ey and up the side of the mountain, sometimes cutting directly into the stone face. These stone houses led to tunnels and paths that wound deep into the heart of the mountain, making use of the protection that only a natural granite fortress could afford.

The City was surrounded a courtyard of gra.s.s with a stone pil ar at its center. The pil ar was crowned with a bright flame that burned by night, providing light and warmth and consuming no fuel. It was evidence of the Presence, that it was not forgotten, that it was prized. The fire flared up each night, appearing at dusk and il uminating the entire city, snuffing itself out at dawn's first light. Outside the City wal no light was visible, keeping safe the secret of the City of Ke'elei.

"It is El," Kreios thought. "He wil s it-and so it is."

The rest of the buildings in the city were constructed with the same materials as had been used to build the wal and to form the mountains. Gla.s.s, and another gift from the angels-mirrors-reflected the mountain around The City as wel as the sky above, making it nearly invisible.

Kreios liked how clean the streets were, and he loved the sound of the young children who ran there, fil ing the city with laughter. It took him back to another age, when creation was as yet stil fil ed with innocence. These young would be trained as warriors; every family member was to be trained in the art of war.

Kreios descended, landing by the stone pil ar at the City's center. The gra.s.s under his feet moved as if it was aware of and had reverence for the Sword he carried. He would attend a gathering with the elders to learn what counsel they had in regard to the ever-approaching battle with the Seer and his horde.

Today, though, he would take another long rest and enjoy the beautiful warm weather and hold his darling baby girl. He would kiss her and give her one extra for her mother.

Chapter II.

Boise, Idaho. Present day.

Life was getting more complicated with each pa.s.sing day. I was getting more beautiful by the second, which was amazing, but also was a problem.

Plus I had promised to reveal to the most amazing boy, whom I hardly knew, that I could heal supernatural y. The problem with making promises is that they have to be kept-or broken.

Michael was there in the back of my mind. I was annoyed that I could not distract him from the fact that he had seen my welt disappear right in front of his eyes.

Kim was chomping at the bit to cal the police. I wondered if she was on my side or if she just thought it would be cool to be involved in a police investigation. It made me seriously want to pul my hair out. Either way, it was more than I wanted to deal with, for sure. I had to rein her in before I lost my chance to get some answers.

I wished Michael would let me ease up on my promise, but I doubted he would. One way or another I was going to have to tel him or show him. As crazy as it sounds, I thought showing him might be easier, because otherwise it's like tel ing some impossible story that n.o.body would believe.

After an awkward phone conversation and an apology, I had somehow talked Kim into ditching the double-date idea. I promised her that later we could share al the juicy details between us. I convinced her it would be more fun that way. In the end, it was enough to convince her, and I was relieved that I would be alone with Michael so I could ful y explain to him what was going on-if only I knew myself. Al of this was extremely frustrating. How was I going to explain this craziness to the guy I was fal ing for?

It was date night. Cue the ominous music. It's a good thing my mom was busy fussing and hovering over me, because my emotions were getting pul ed in so many different directions. How could I dread so completely the one thing I had been wanting with al my heart for so long? It was just crazy. Mom was there, though, to run a brush through my hair and help me decide on the right shoes-but we both knew it wasn't about any of that. When you need your mom, you just need your mom.

My hair looked like spun silk, but darker, and kind of metal ic looking. When I touched it, I gasped. It was so soft, but so strong that when I pul ed a strand from the brush and tried to break it, I couldn't. With each stroke it got smoother and smoother. Maybe I was going to die-but at least I would die looking good.

It was just after six, and Mom and I shared a glance between us. I pul ed on a cute little dress that I had picked up at Forever 21. Kim had insisted that I buy it and I had to admit that it did look great. It was a light springy material, sky blue, with silver lines fal ing down the right side and curling up the hip into a flower with silver petals. The thread was so beautiful and delicate that I was almost afraid to touch it. It was a sleeveless v-cut with the delicate hem at my knees. It was so flattering that I blushed at my own reflection in the long mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

Mom helped me complete the look with strappy black high-heels. I pul ed my hair back with a barrette and let half of it fal over my shoulders. I was amazed. No more flat iron for this chick. I chose the same shade of eye shadow as my dress and some clear lip-gloss. I felt amazing. Was this how it was supposed to feel?

Mom excused herself from my room. She said she had to get dinner ready downstairs, but as she left, she was dabbing at her eyes and I think maybe she was just as emotional about date night as I was.

As she blew me a kiss and closed my door, Kim cal ed, my phone bouncing on the dresser. I answered it, sure that she could hear me smile. "Yes, my dear Kim. I take it you're stil trying to decide what to wear?" I could imagine her standing in front of her bedroom mirror with a frustrated look on her face; the two dresses in question hanging next to each other like a line-up at the city jail.

"Yes! The red one...is it too fancy? Maybe we won't be going to a very fancy place. The black one is hot though... but I'm so pale! I should have gone tanning last week. Argh, Airel, what am I going to do?"

"The black one's better. You know how red and your hair mix. I don't know why you even bought that one." Kim had seen the red one-and when I say red, I mean in-your-face bright red-and had to have it. Her red-orange hair made her look like a cooked lobster if she ever wore anything red.

"You think? The black is so...wel , so cliche. You know, every girl has a little black dress. But on a first date?"

"Kim, since when do you care about what anyone else thinks? Go black and don't look back. I gotta go. I'l cal later tonight, maybe in the morning if we stay out late." I didn't want her texting every five minutes for an update.

"Okay, I'l wear the black one. Oh, I can't wait!" She giggled. "Cal me!" I hung up and tossed the phone into a tiny clutch I was going to cart around with me, more to complete the look than anything else.

I heard Michael's truck pul up out front and I moved to the window to look out. I wanted to run down and open the door for him to block his path to my dad, but Dad had already told me to stay in my room until he had a chance to meet "the guy." "The guy." He was more than "the guy," of course, but dads wil be dads.

I heard the doorbel and a dry voice downstairs. I paced the room and double-checked my make-up and hair. Spinning around, I smiled at the way my dress looked . Not bad, girl! Not bad.

"Airel, you ready?" Dad yel ed up the stairs and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I grabbed my purse and bolted, glancing one last time in the mirror. I took the stairs far too quickly for the blasted heels I was wearing.

Michael stood at the foot of the stairs in a pink Oxford shirt and jeans that were faded in just the right spots. He looked like a model for G.Q.

His jaw dropped and my dad blushed for me as I came to a stop one step from the bottom. I did a little curtsey and smiled. I looked Michael up and down in a critical manner as if to judge what he was wearing. "Hm. Pink, eh?"

"It's off-red." His smile intoxicated me. His light blond hair looked almost white and stood up al over in soft spikes that I wanted to touch. He smiled, holding out his hand.

I took it. "You're trying to score points here." He smel ed so good. No cologne-bomb here-just something natural y irresistible. He looked at me with the biggest smile on his face, as if he wanted to say something but was unable to find the words.

Dad broke the spel . "Now, you two be good. Have her home by midnight. If you need anything cal , and if you're gonna be late, cal . Have fun and remember what I said, Michael."

I looked sideways at Michael, then at my dad. He smiled and shook Dad's hand. "Yes, sir. We'l be good and she'l be safe-you can count on that, sir."

Mom stood there, Dad holding her, and her eyes were misty.

Well, how wonderful. The guy could be a gentleman. I couldn't resist him, and what's more, couldn't think of a single reason why I ever should. I suppressed a laugh. I kissed my dad on the cheek and gave my mom a little hug. "Love you guys. We'l be fine. Don't stay up waiting for us. Get some sleep, okay?" I knew they would wait up anyway because parents are like that. They were like a masterpiece portrait as they stood there watching me walk away. It was striking and so sweet, and thoughts of my own romantic future stirred my imagination.

I waved over my shoulder as Michael opened the front door for me. The evening air was warm and sweet, fil ed with pumpkin spice and golden leaves. I breathed in deep and Michael took my arm, leading me down the front steps.

"So, he gave you the I-wil -have-my-revenge talk, huh? You were al , 'sir,' and, 'yes sir!' Did he show you the 12-gauge, too?"

Michael lifted the latch on the pa.s.senger side of his big Chevy truck and helped me in. "Oh, yeah. He even told me that he has a 'special understanding'