Sliding out of my sandals, I dipped my toes into the resting water and watched the silver rings spread from my foot into the heart of the lake.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
I startled, not anticipating his voice to come from the water. He rose from it with the kind of magnificence that would have made pagans believers. It didn’t seem right that this man was meant for me. Fate must have been taking the day off when our names were paired.
“No skinny-dipping?” I said eyeing his dripping wet boardshorts longer than necessary.
“I’m game,” he said, his gaze playing with mine. “You first, though.”
“Me first, huh?” I asked, channeling innocence as I thumbed at the belt circling the zippered leather vest.
He nodded, his eyes full of mischief.
“Gladly,” I said, unknotting the cloth belt and letting it fall to the ground.
The mischief in his eyes was replaced by surprise, gaping as my hands moved to my zipper.
I slid the vest’s zipper down, letting each note hang like an answered prayer, before I saw him gulp. I couldn’t tease him any longer. I rushed the zipper down, revealing the swimsuit beneath.
“Better luck next time,” I said, relishing the torture in his face. It was the look I normally wore.
He shook his head. “Temptress,” he accused, not hiding his approval as his eyes wandered over me.
“I could say the same.” I raised my eyebrows in a knowing fashion. “Tempter. How about that?”
“Unless you’re intent on teasing me any longer, or are planning on tossing aside any more clothing—which, for the record, I would have no problem with.” He winked, opening his arms wide. “Anytime you’re ready.”
Not wasting time answering, I let my pants fall to the sand and jumped at him. “Silly me,” I whispered, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Wasting precious time when there’s serious time to make up for and who knows when they’ll send you away again.”
He drew me closer to him and waded deeper into the water. “I don’t think you’ll have to be worried about me leaving anytime soon,” he assured, as the water continued to creep up our bodies. “I spoke with the Council today—”
“I remember,” I interrupted. “I remember you having to leave two minutes after I finally got to see you after a month. That was a low blow . . . even for your Council.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Our Council,” I corrected, although I felt like the unwanted, jaded step-child entering a family like the Cleavers.
“I was actually the one who requested the meeting.”
“You requested it?” I asked, leaning back. “Was your matter really so important it couldn’t wait a few hours? Maybe even one?”
I could tell he was trying to hide his smile from the way the skin around the outside of his eyes was creasing. “There’s nothing more important to me than being with you and since you’re the pious one”—his smile broke through now—“and won’t allow that until we’re granted a Union, the matter today was urgently important.”
I swallowed. “You spoke with the Council about us?”
“I did,” he said, ceasing his march into the center of the lake. His legs spun like motors below me, rocking our bodies together in a way that made me both grateful and ungrateful for the clothing we’d left on. Mostly ungrateful, though.
“Did this meeting go any better than the last three?” It took a noteworthy amount of willpower to summon a coherent sentence together with our bodies moving together this way.
“I think I just might be wearing them out,” he said with a grin.
“WHAT?” I shouted, grabbing his face with both hands. “They agreed to a Union?”
“I wish,” he answered. “I may be persistent, but they’re cranky, old men stuck to their ways.” His attempts to lighten whatever the Council was doing to mess with us never invoked the response he hoped it would. I felt my lips pull into a tighter line.
“What did they say then?”
“They said they would take some time to consider my request and would let me know their decision.” He shrugged, looking off into the distance. “I know it doesn’t sound like much, and it’s a long shot from where we want to be, but it’s at least a start.”
I’d hurt his feelings. As good as he could be at hiding his emotions, he couldn’t hide that. Here he was repeatedly petitioning and being rejected by the Council who held him in such high esteem and I was acting unappreciative. “Of course it’s a start.” I tilted his face back towards me. “It’s a great start. Any progress with the Council is a victory.” I decided to stop letting my vocal chords demonstrate my gratitude and let my lips pick up right where my words left off.
“Thank you,” I whispered after pulling my lips from his.
“No, no. Thank you,” he said, running his fingers up my back. “However, I think I deserve a bit more thankfulness,”—I eyed him and he eyed me right back—“all things considered.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I teased. “But let’s find something to do to fill the time while I consider.” I wasn’t sure if I initiated it or he did, but either way, neither one of us would be ending it anytime soon. His fingers knotted into my hair, crushing my mouth harder into his, and his body pulsed heat in such a way it made the fear of what could happen to us if we let one thing lead to another fade to near invisibility.
“Good evening.”
My lips turned to ice over William’s when I recognized the voice behind us and its anything but ambivalent tone.
William’s shoulders stiffened. “Father, what can we do for you this evening?”
Barely a whisper, I asked, “How did he find us?”
“He hasn’t told you?” Charles answered my all-but-silent question before William could. “My gift happens to be the ability to locate any Immortal anywhere in the world. A gift that comes in handy when you’re searching for a delinquent son.”
Mortified Charles had found the two of us so engaged, I attempted to remove myself from William’s vice-like hold. It only tightened the more I tried, so I succumbed, but I wasn’t able to look Charles in the face.
Now, Charles was no fool and I’m sure he knew more than William or I would have liked about our secret meetings and forbidden embraces, but this was the first time he’d ever caught us with our lips locked and I wasn’t sure how he’d respond.
“The Council came to a decision tonight regarding the request you made this morning,” Charles broke the fragile silence. “A final decision.”
“And what was your decision, Father?” William asked, trying to keep his voice level.
I chanced a glimpse at Charles. His face was tilted down, looking almost sad, but when he looked up at us, there was no emotion written on his face. “Your request is denied.”
The words fell like a window, shattering through me. My fingers curled deeper into William’s flesh, as if fearing Charles would rip him away from me.
A spasm ran up William’s back, branching into his chest and arms until his whole body was quaking. His jaw was locked and I was speechless, so neither of us responded. But really, what could we say? We’d just been told—for a grand total of four times—that our request for a Unity was denied. There was no negotiating around it; the Council’s decision was law. Our silence lengthened.
“An emergency has come up down south and you’re needed there immediately,” Charles directed at William, somehow spiraling my nightmare a level deeper. “You leave first thing in the morning.”
I hadn’t noticed the leather book in his hands until he rested it on the blanket William had laid out for us. Although I’m certain William hadn’t had reading on his mind when he’d spread it out. “I thought you might want to take this along for some light reading since you could be gone for quite a while this time. I’ve bookmarked a couple areas you might find compelling,” he said, turning to leave.
All signs of lightheartedness had drained from the man clutching me to him,
still quivering in anger. It never ceased to amaze me how life could change in an instant; how one moment could be euphoric and the next could be devastating.
This wasn’t a time to delve into life’s philosophies, though. The trembling diminishing, his body went rigid and for the first time, his body felt cold against mine. Unable to think of anything other than easing whatever torment ailed him now, I attempted to lighten the mood. “You were saying what about cranky, old men stuck in their ways?”
His face remained unchanged, confirming my attempts to lighten anything failed miserably.
“Okay, say something—please,” I begged. “Because I’m not used to being the calm one and I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do or say next.” I slid the wet tuft of hair over his forehead to the side.
“Do I sound as miserably unconvincing when I try to cheer you up?” He looked at me and I could tell from experience he was doing his best to hide what he was really feeling.
“You’re much better actually,” I assured. “But you’ve got a bit more experience.”
“Just a bit,” he said, drawing me into an embrace that felt more desperate than passionate . . . more fleeting than welcoming, like he was saying goodbye—the forever kind. “You know how much I love you.”
It wasn’t a question, but I felt the need to respond. “Of course I do.” How could I ever doubt his love for me with the history of life threatening circumstances we’d encountered? How could I doubt his faithfulness to me when he’d spent a couple centuries searching for me? Did it make sense for him to love me? No. Did I deserve his love? Most definitely not. But did I doubt his love for me, misplaced as it may have been? Never once.
“Good,” he said, releasing me from his arms. “Let’s get out of here. I think it’s fair to say tonight didn’t exactly go as planned.”
“Really?” I didn’t hide my sarcasm as he led me out of the water. My thumbed hooked under the leather bracelet I’d made him. “You know, you don’t have to wear this thing until the leather disintegrates.”
He glanced at his wrist, smiling. “How about this? I’ll take it off when you replace it with a band on the ring finger of my left hand.”
“Let’s hope that bracelet’s as eternal as we are,” I said dryly. “Because that’s how long it will be before I’m allowed to put a ring on your finger.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said under his breath and whenever his expression was lined as it was now, I’d learned he was talking more to himself than anyone else.
“I’d say a change of venue is in order?” He retrieved his shirt from the tree bough it was hanging from and slid it on. Seemed like a waste since I’d be taking it off in a few minutes anyways, but maybe that’s where all the fun was; the taking off.
But as a flash of William’s bare upper body came to mind, I knew the taking off had nothing on the exploration that followed. Not that the exploration got much past his top half, much to his very apparent disappointment and to my secret disappointment. Not in a million years would I risk William’s life again and whenever we’d neared the point of no return (as I’d sadistically referred to it), it was either time for sleep, separation—or when things got really heated—a cold shower. I had a feeling tonight would require a three tiered approach.
“How does my room sound for a change of venue, Mr. Hayward?” I hoisted my pants into place and cinched the belt tight around my vest, looking longingly at the blanket that, inanimate as it was, was beckoning to me. “What is this?” I asked, the book catching my eye. I plopped down and began thumbing through the book with its brittle pages and musty smell. Shuffling through the ancient pages I understood why the phrase older than dirt was created. I skipped to the page Charles had marked with a scarlet ribbon. Before my eyes could latch onto the first word, William’s hands pried it away. “Let’s not ruin the night.”
I reached for the book, but he shoved it behind his back. “I’d say your father showing up in the middle of us rounding second base to announce you’d be leaving tomorrow until the end of time already ruined the night.”
He leaned forward, his eyes hungry. “Let’s see if you’re still calling tonight ruined by sunrise.”
I imagined a brigade of fire extinguishers attacking the flames burning inside me. It didn’t help. “Nice try with the whole diverting my attention with your seduction,” I said, careful not to look him in the eyes. “But you’ve only managed to heighten my interest in whatever is written on the pages of that thing.”
“Nothing of any importance,” he countered, outmaneuvering me again, but somehow managing to position me into his lap. Such an opportunist. “Now can we please forget about the wretched book and pick up where we left off?” His eyes were floating in their anticipation, but it was his voice that gave him away.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I asked, my eyes bulging. “Whatever’s in there is why everyone thinks you’re the chosen one.”
He sighed and this time when I reached my arm around him for the book, he released it like he’d resigned himself to whatever detour this night was taking. “What is this thing?” I asked, turning it over, searching for a title or a copyright or an author name . . . or something that would give it a place in history. “Is this some sort of Immortal Bible?”
One corner of his mouth pulled up. “It’s more of a guidebook.”
“Isn’t that what a Bible is?”
He shrugged, fluttering his hand dismissively. “Tomayto, tomahtoe.”
“So is your name in here or something?” I asked, shuffling through the pages, charging towards my scarlet ribbon target.
“No.” His voice was guarded, as was his face. He was editing . . . again.
“So why do they think it’s you?” I tilted his chin towards me, knowing it was impossible for him to divulge anything but the truth when his face was trained on mine.
“Exactly,” he said, turning his palms up like I’d said something prophetic. “For no other reason than a vague description thousands of years old.”
At my destination, I moved the scarlet ribbon aside, my eyes falling on a paragraph underlined in black ink. I felt William suck in a breath as my eyes scurried over the first line
Balance is the fragile state of being we seek to keep,
Balance is the equilibrium we will one day lose,
Balance is what the chosen one must restore.
Mortality will be lost at a young age, by violent means,
A trio of brothers will make the journey to Immortality with him, aiding him in his quest.
A leader at heart, men will flock to him both in life and after
A solider, a healer, an intellectual, but above all, reluctant to
fulfill all that is required of his calling.
An arsenal of gifts will be at his disposal,
Foretelling to know death, to have an incentive to overcome it.
Strength, speed, and courage to combat his enemies,
Compassion to deal out mercy.
And when his need is greatest, when circumstance presents him with
the unthinkable, a gift will emerge to remind him what he is fighting for.
The gift to give life Immortal will manifest, to save his great love.
A love he will save only to fight to be with for an eternity, a fight he will lose.
This lost love will serve as fuel to his fight, vanquishing his enemies
in one final stand.
Balance, the least peaceful, most costly state of being,
Balance, the state returned to through blood,
Balance, what the chosen one will come to hate.
“Okay, so basically your name is spelled out here,” I said, so heavy with shock I knew I wasn’t able to comprehend the gravity of what I’d just read and the role William was expected to play in this Immortal world.
“Now you sound like the Council,” he said, the tenor of sadness in his voice.
I dropped the book, reaching for his hand. “Wow. This is heavy,
” I mumbled, looking for some way to brighten the darkness shadowing his face. “But since you can do anything, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with this whole chosen one thing.”
He looked at the sky, concentrating on a spot I’d become familiar with. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, his shoulders sagging as if the balance of the world was resting on them. “Since I have none myself.”
I hated seeing him like this, overwhelmed with the responsibility placed on his shoulders by everyone but himself. In most circumstances, I would have dropped the subject and moved on to something that included more laughter and a lot more lip-to-lip contact, but this wasn’t most circumstances. “I know I’m going to sound like a naïve schoolgirl in the worst kind of way here, so fair warning, but other than knowing there is a chosen one and everyone seems to think it’s you . . . just what exactly is it?”
A smile cracked, but it was lop-sided. “Not much really, besides the balance of the universe being dependent on this poor soul’s shoulders,” he said, darker than the night slinking around us.
I shouldered into him, hinting his arm should wind around me. He had a one-hundred percent accuracy rate when it came to reading my physical cues. “Is that all?”
He tucked my head beneath his chin, pulling me tighter to him. “You already know about the importance Immortals place on balance, avoiding the tipping point at all costs. Inheritors and Guardians believe and fight for different things, but at the core of it all, we believe in a cohesiveness . . . that is as unstable as it is tenuous. Inheritors appreciate the necessity of Guardians, as we do them. Either one gets too powerful and chaos in the world is the result.”
My mind leapt to a certain faction of Immortals that seemed concerned with everything but balance, but William was already there. “That was the way it was up until a few decades ago when a group of Inheritors decided it was their duty to tip the balance in their favor,” he paused, putting his words together with less care, looking overwhelmed by the weight of it all.