Airel. Part 15

I stopped in mid-bite and put the fork down, staring. "I bet you could tel me my name," I baited him in vain. I waited, too, in vain, but I had to surrender.

"It's Airel." Michael mechanical y introduced himself out of obligation. It was real y awkward.

"I need to tel you something so that we do not have another night like the one that put you in convalescence for a week." He was looking directly at me.

Then his gaze shifted to Michael, and he continued.

"You cannot escape, so don't try. If you do try, I wil lock you away like a dog. If you stay on the property you wil be free within its boundaries." He took a sip from his gla.s.s of orange juice, then sighed. He acted as if he was being forced to do this. I wondered if he was like an employee for someone, a hit man for some multinational power broker.

I could not help but wonder how in the world I had ended up there. Kim would have said, "I told you so," and reminded me that we should have gone to the cops. I was shocked at myself as I wondered if I was inside the machinery of one of those human trafficking organizations I had been hearing about.

I was so mad; I couldn't believe we were al sitting at a table eating as if we were al old friends. But I couldn't bring myself to hate Kale or even retain my anger. He acted natural and sure of himself, which disarmed me. He didn't even seem to consider the fact that he would end up in prison for a very long time if he was caught kidnapping minors.

"I have eyes and ears everywhere. I'l know of any plans you make before you have a chance to execute them. I do not want to hold you in a cage like animals. I would rather you were free." He paused, indicating that he was switching gears. "You are to attend to your schooling so as not to fal behind in your studies." Michael groaned, and I sighed aloud.

"This makes no sense," I said. "You kidnap us, and then you act like we're here on a field trip? Now-why did you take us, and what do you want?"

"You wil obey or suffer the consequences," he said calmly. The calmness chil ed me deeply, and I backed off, feeling with certainty that I was in over my head.

"Easy now, she didn't mean anything by it," Michael was trying to keep the peace. "She just wanted to know what you want-money?" Kale looked at him with what can only be described as hatred. I don't think Michael noticed it; he just kept on talking in even tones. "My dad doesn't have much. I don't think hers does either." Michael tensed, opening and closing his fists as if he was about to strike. This was like cats and dogs, seriously, and I almost felt like I needed to jump up and get in between them.

Kale deflected him. "I do not need money. As you can see I have money to spare. What I want," he turned to me, "only Airel can give."

Chapter XV.

Boise Idaho, Present day Stan was cheerful y ignorant, standing over the demobilized police officer, engaged in what was, for him, a shiny new hobby: abduction and torture. He held the badge up to the light that came from a single bulb in the tiny one-car garage.

"Lopez," he read out. The instability in the housing market had done at least one thing for opportunists, and that was that there were plenty of empty foreclosed homes al over the val ey.

Stan fancied himself a man of deliberate action. He had considered the empty house for a week before deciding it would work wel for his purposes tonight. Officer Lopez was bound with his own handcuffs; his torso and ankles duct-taped to a metal folding chair. Blood seeped from his broken nose onto his white uniform shirt, soaking in, making a beautiful inkblot image.

Stan thought it looked like a bat; maybe a dragon. This image fil ed him with a sense of power and fear; a buzz to which he had become addicted.

"Lopez, I am in need of information, and I must warn you: if you lie, I wil not have any use for you." Stan chuckled and wiped tar-colored spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand. "I wil ask once. Only once." He opened a smal folding knife with a serrated inward curving blade, bent down on one knee and pul ed off one of Lopez's shoes. The officer tried to protest, fighting the restraints, but the rag stuffed in his mouth made it impossible to discern his words.

Stan took hold of his shoeless foot and held it tight. "Now now, Lopez; are we not both professionals? Do you not trust me?" He mocked him. "This is for your own good, I promise you that-for you need to see and understand the seriousness of your situation, and I need to make it known to you, clearly, that I mean what I say."

Stan removed the sock from the officer's foot. In a sawing motion that took several attempts to cut through the ligaments, he removed the little toe from the detective's foot. Lopez wailed and thrashed, but the gag held in place, his body bound.

Stan stood up and looked around the empty garage as if realizing for the first time where he was. He fished in the pockets of his suit coat, which he had been wearing for a week now, and produced a cigar lighter. Smirking, he lit the torch-like device and held the flame to the freshly inflicted wound. It sizzled, the smel of burning flesh infiltrated the garage, the detective squealed in pain, and Stan engorged himself on al of it, inhaling deeply.

"There, now. We can be friends again," he chuckled. "At least now I know that when I ask my question, you may prove yourself to be of some use to me."

The bloodstone swung freely from his neck, pulsing and humming, hovering slightly with each pulse. Stan was super-aware of its presence. Al he wanted to do was caress it with l.u.s.t and desire, but he control ed himself for now.

"I know who you are, Lopez. I know that you are the lead detective in the investigation into the disappearance of an insignificant girl named Airel... the girl who witnessed that murder..." He waved his hand dismissively. "I want to know who took her and whether or not she was alone. If you refuse to answer me, I wil dispose of you-and your pretty wife, of course... and I wil find someone who wants to live." Stan looked at him with reddening eyes.

Time seemed so thin to Stan-he was looking straight at something only he could see, and for a time, he was not himself. His own reality tended to come and go nowadays; it was something he had come to accept since the bloodstone had come into his life. Stan looked straight ahead at nothing.

He ran his hand through his hair and glanced down at the cop. Stan's eyes glowed red and his face became radiant. In fact, his body was tenanted by the parasitical presence that made him what he was for now-the Seer. His eyes took on an intense Satanic red glow, and his face became disturbingly beautiful.

He spoke. "Menial fool. I wil remove your gag and wait for your answer. If you scream, you wil die." He yanked the rag from the detective's mouth and stood before him, his palms facing upward. The pendant rose and hovered in the hol ow of his hands. Fear stole into the cracks of the officer's mind and began to break it apart, piece by piece.

Chapter XVI.

Somewhere in the Mountains of Idaho, Present day "I need you to try something for me." Kale lowered his voice, and as I placed the last bite of scrambled eggs in my mouth, I noticed that he had brought a book with him. It looked like it had a thousand pages, and it was leather-bound. The edges of the pages had once been gilded, but after time and use the gold had al but rubbed off.

"Tel me what this is and where to turn." He pointed to the black bound book, sat back in his chair, and folded his arms across his chest.

"I don't understand-what is that and where to turn? That makes no sense." Kale the kil er was losing his marbles. I remembered my grandmother's old family Bible, and this book looked a lot like it. This one, though, looked ancient.

"What is this book?" He demanded in a harsh tone. Michael stiffened.

I wanted to shout back at him for making me play this stupid game. Al this 'you shal know in time' c.r.a.p was getting on my nerves. "It's a Bible," I sighed, surrendering to the ridiculous. I ducked my chin and hid behind my hair, thanking G.o.d I had had the foresight to leave it down today.

In a softer voice, he said, "Good. Now where do I turn? Don't think about it; just tel me right off the top of your head." I could see Michael was feeling the awkwardness as much as I. I put my hand on his arm. He looked at me and managed a weak smile.

"What are you doing, playing Bible roulette?"

"Now. Do it now!" Kale commanded.

After I got over my initial shock, I sputtered out, "Fine. Six one-Genesis six, verse one."

Kale's face was il uminated with satisfaction. "I was just thinking that. Very good." He even smiled. He opened the Bible, placed it in front of me, pointed to the pa.s.sage, and cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and spoke.

"And it came to pa.s.s, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them, that the sons of G.o.d saw the daughters of men, that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose. There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of G.o.d came into the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown. "

The way he spoke the text of the old Bible made me think he loved each word. I saw how gently he touched the pages, how sacred the act of closing the cover together was for him. He set the Bible down on the table and stared at me.

He seemed irritated with me, and I guessed what he might be thinking. I shook my head, "So what? You read some random pa.s.sage that means what?"

I stil didn't like it.He sighed softly, but I could tel I was missing something important, that he was exercising self-control. My hand was stil on Michael's arm, and I was very aware of it. My heart was pounding; just the feel of his skin touching mine in that simple gesture made me warm al over, and I realized that most of me just wanted to go off somewhere with him so that we could be alone.

Kale's voice, velvety, shook me from my reverie. "This story is the only one like it in the entire Bible. It talks about how the angels of G.o.d forsook their place in heaven when they saw the beauty of Eve's daughters. They fel in love. They left paradise to marry and create new lives among mortal man-the sons of Adam. These angels intermarried with the race of men, and their wives produced children. These children were different; immortal. As far as you would consider them, they had what might be cal ed...superhuman powers."

Overloaded with new information, the tumblers on the locks in my mind al fel into place and sprung open instantly. I struggled to hold on, and the only thing that held me was fear. Inwardly, I had already admitted to myself that I had been convinced, that I was in the midst of a genuine epiphany, but the cost of outward admission to that fact was too great to bear, so I kept it hidden.

Then an even stranger thing happened: Kale chuckled. It was as if he had read my thoughts as al this had flooded in upon me and thought it was amusing. Al I could do was sit there and worry about drooling out of my open mouth.

Now that Kale had my attention, he drove it home. "The half-angel children would grow up normal. Their superpowers were never triggered unless they came into contact with what we cal the Brotherhood. Don't worry; we wil get into that some other time. The point is, if these hybrid children never got awakened, they would simply live normal lives, growing old and dying just like a normal man or woman. The verses you picked out for me tel about their origin. I hope you see what I'm driving at-or do I have to spel it out for you?"

My hands were cold. The pit of my stomach clenched tightly, feeling slightly like hunger pangs. My mind replayed for me the night I had cut myself, how I had healed without even a scar to show for it. I thought about the way my skin had become so milky, smoothed out, pure. I thought about my hair; how it was so perfect, so strong-that was decidedly not normal, not- human. And now, as if to complete the internal mutiny against my average teenage life, I heard fluttering. Pages of a book. Wings. She, in the back of my mind, stood up.

Everything I had ever known, wanted, dreamed, desired, and planned in my entire life was now almost visibly crumbling before me, and I could not stop it. I was furious.

Kale sat silently, al owing me to ponder the information further. Even Michael seemed to be too shocked to say anything. I figured he was putting it al together as wel ; he had seen enough to make him wonder what was wrong with me. But I couldn't know what he was real y thinking.

Like a shout in the darkness, I heard my name. "Airel." It was Kale. The kil er. The stalker. The kidnapper. "Airel, listen to me. I am not your enemy. I am your friend."

Chapter XVII.

First love. First kiss. First night spent away from home. These are the things that leave their mark on everyone. These were true enough for me, but there was also the time I almost drowned, the first time I rode a horse, and now there was the day I sat in front of my kidnapper and realized that everything in my once-happy life was al just an il usion. Congrats, girl, you're a half-breed, the love-child of angelic aliens and ancient hut-dwellers. Oh, really?

Wow, sweet...

I didn't remember standing up, or even the long walk down twisting stone steps. Al I could feel was the long wet gra.s.s on my bare feet as I walked through the meadow.

I felt like I was in a fog, that what I had thought was real turned out to be just a curtain. Now the curtain had lifted, and what was lying in wait behind jumped out and ravaged my mind. I can't really believe this lunatic murderer and kidnapper, can I? I had no way of knowing if what he had told me was true. But, wait... I shivered. His last words echoed through my brain, threateningly. I was beginning to understand the meaning of risk-because I was starting to doubt everything I thought I knew.

The end of our conversation played in the large s.p.a.ce of my freshly expanded mind: "How did you know that the story I wanted to read to you was in Genesis chapter six?" he had said.

I had stared at him in utter amazement. "It was a lucky guess," I had said flatly.

"Was it?" He had raised one eyebrow, a smal smile lifting the right side of his mouth. "I was thinking of the book and chapter in my mind. You read my thoughts, Airel. I suspected you might have that gift, among others..."

"Who are you?" I had nearly shouted it at him, and would have if my voice had not been on the verge of cracking. It's funny, but I didn't let him answer me-or if he had, I didn't remember what it was. I had stormed off the porch, letting my feet carry me where they would.

I ended up sitting in the wet gra.s.s in the meadow, glances of which I had stolen so often from my room, from the bal room. I was a candle burnt from both ends, completely spent. My eyes fil ed with tears as I felt the dark woods surrounding. Superhuman? I was just an average girl. But the things I wanted the most were out of reach, permanently, and they were foolish too.

I became overwhelmed with one thought, and words fail to describe it even near to what I felt, because it soaked into the marrow of my bones in that moment. What I felt, stronger than anything I had ever felt, what faded literal y every other concern into the background including my family, my future, and Michael, was that I had woken up today to find that I was... a superhuman... thing... but al I felt was frail. My mind was firmly trapped in the difference between the two.

Shoulders shaking and shivering with chil s, I sobbed and cried for what seemed like an hour. I didn't care what Michael or that horrible man thought.

What did it matter anyway? What did I have to look forward to? Days, months, years, decades, centuries, lifetimes of loneliness-if what he had implied about immortality was true-and knowing that I was not only different, but also different in a way no one would ever understand.

Feeling like, at seventeen years of age, I had cried enough tears for many lifetimes already, the ripples in the little pond of my life began to subside. I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, which I needed desperately.

I looked up at the huge house that was embedded in the mountainside. It was so beautiful. I could see the tal windows that looked out over the lush green val ey, and the patio where Kale and Michael stil sat. I was glad they let me be alone; it would have been embarra.s.sing to have cried like that in front of Michael.

But I wasn't alone. She was there with me, and for once, I felt her almost tangibly. I was glad that She seemed to show up when I most needed her. She helped me think of something I never would have come to on my own: "You cannot change this. You are who you are. Live. Live, Airel."

She was right, of course. I couldn't change who I was or what I was, as my stalker had informed me an eternity ago. I was here for a reason. Maybe Kale knew, or he could help me discover it. As I steeled myself to it, it began to occur to me that there had been times before when my answers had proved to be inadequate. I decided that I had more to lose in sticking it out by myself than I stood to gain by asking for help. It was time to find out why I was here, and I needed to cast aside everything that made me comfortable.

I returned, ascending the winding gray stone steps, and rejoined them on the fringes of the patio s.p.a.ce, awkward and self-conscious. I hid a little behind my hair, sticking my hands in my back pockets, and managed a weak apology. My chair was overturned, just as I had thought, but Kale stood as I approached and righted it, holding it out for me in a gesture of peacemaking. I got the very strong sense that Kale was like a gift from G.o.d. It may have seemed like a radical change in my thinking. It was.

I sat down. Stil , I had an axe to grind with Kale, especial y if he was indeed friend and not foe. I decided to cut right to it: "My parents-"

"-Are fine," he finished for me.

I wanted to believe him, but I desired proof. I was thrown. Al I could manage was, "But-" I didn't like how these negotiations were going. It was worse than asking my dad for the car keys on a Friday night.

"Airel, you need to learn how to trust me, and how to be patient as you wait for the answers you seek."

"But what does that have to do with my concern for my parents, for my life?"

He was briefly taken aback, I could tel , but he dodged the question a little. "You may not be ready to see the answers yet. And what good would it do you to see anything that you cannot understand?" His eyes spoke volumes of kindness and empathy.

I gave up. It was obvious that Kale wasn't going to tel me anything but what he wanted to tel me, and there was no amount of bargaining that would change that. Which is not to say that I couldn't try. "Okay, whatever. Just why am I here, then?"

He appeared appreciative that I had changed my tack. "Airel, you are here to begin your training."

"Training. Like," I couldn't help giggling a little bit, "superhero training?"

"If you don't learn control, you'l be a danger to everyone around you, including yourself." He had a hint of a smile on his pale face. I turned to look at Michael, stil , in spite of myself, feeling like I needed to be pinched.

Michael leaned into me. "We should stick together. I think whatever he knows, we need to know. This is uncharted territory, if you know what I mean."

Michael took my hand in his. I could feel his pulse, and I couldn't help but grin. His heart was beating just as fast as mine was.

I turned back to Kale. "Alright. What do we do first?"

"'We?' 'We' won't be doing anything. Understand, children, Airel needs to be here-as for you, Michael, you're here for other reasons altogether."

I was seriously chafed now. "'Children?' How dare you." I mounted my high horse and looked condescendingly at him from it. "Don't ever cal me a child again!" I was so angry at him that I could barely formulate the thoughts in my head, which, I was aware, he would probably be probing.

He sighed in response. "Airel, your training is to be solo. Michael cannot undergo any of it. Most of it he wil not even be al owed to watch. You must learn these things in the quiet of solitude; you must become accustomed to your instruction one-on-one." He stood and walked to a smal , rough table that I had not noticed before, standing by the windows. On it were several books, one of which was the Bible we had been using earlier, and al of which were very old. "Your first course of study wil be history."

He selected one of the books. It was an imposing looking volume, and me being somewhat of a book junky, although not a history fan, I almost salivated looking at its hidebound cover. He walked it back to the table, and as he did, my mind flooded with what can only be described as destiny. There is no other way to express it.

"Your history, Airel." His voice was fil ed with pleasure and pain, and as he said the words he looked at me the way my dad did sometimes, right before he would tel me that he loved me. He placed the book on the table before me.

I looked at it, and I have to admit, even before I ever touched it, the moment felt heavy. I reached out my right hand to the book, to open its hidebound cover. As my hand neared it, it began to feel magnetic to me, as if I could not draw back even if my life depended on it. The tip of my finger rested at last on its front cover, releasing a torrent of sound in my head, a shout of triumph: KREIOS.