Continuing (The Starlight Chronicles Book 5)

  “I see,” she said, non-committedly.

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” I asked. “Doesn’t it bother you that everything doesn’t really happen for a reason? Doesn’t it bother you that good people suffer? That people who are trying so hard to fight for the good in this world are overrun by all the bad?”

  I turned away. “What kind of leader would allow his people to suffer? Especially when he has the power to take it away?”

  Martha remained silent for a long moment as I fought against the angry tears in my eyes.

  Raiya worked so hard for the Prince! All she wanted was to go and see him and live with him again in the Celestial Kingdom. And I knew he had the power to make her life better. But no, she had a grandfather figure who turned out to be a vindictive monster raising her, learning all her weaknesses, and stacking the odds in his favor for when he finally decided to strike.

  “Well,” Mrs. Smithe finally said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about specifically, but let me tell you a little story, Hamilton.”

  “What?” I snapped. “I don’t have time for stories. I’m too busy trying to live my own life.” Which was getting more and more out of hand, I thought.

  “Just put your lips in park and listen.” She straightened her glasses. “My husband and son were not killed by a car accident, though that is the story on record.”

  That managed to capture my attention. “Huh?”

  “They were murdered,” she continued, “by members of my former company.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “They’ve done worse,” she assured me.

  “That’s … that’s terrible,” I repeated, unable to say much else.

  “Yes, it is,” she said. “Listen. There are times when we don’t know the reasons or the answers to questions, if there are even such things in this life. All we have to do is choose what do with the time and skills we have.”

  She patted my arm. “Save your anger for those who truly deserve it—your true enemies. Save your anger to fight another day.”

  I nodded, slowly, thinking of Draco. First and foremost, he was the one who tricked Raiya and hurt her the most. I had to worry about him before anyone else, especially compared to my heartless, braindead friends. “That makes sense.”

  Elysian said we had time, didn’t we? Not much, maybe, but enough to formulate a new plan. One in which Draco would pay dearly.

  “That’s a good idea,” I said slowly. Then I looked up at her. “Why did the company you worked for kill your family?”

  “They needed my cooperation,” Mrs. Smithe said.

  “I see.”

  She scooted her chair closer to the desk, inching closer to me. “Do you know why I’m telling you this?” she asked.

  “No. Not really. Sort of. But not really.”

  “Because they will likely do it to you,” Mrs. Smithe told me. “Especially since they’ll likely need your cooperation, too.”

  “My … cooperation?” A tingling feeling tugged at me.

  “Yes.” Mrs. Smithe gazed at me intently over the thick, black frame of her glasses. “SWORD is notorious for finding convincing ways to make people work with them.”

  *☼*

  For the first time in my life, ever, I couldn’t wait to go to the hospital.

  After Martha’s admission, I needed Raiya more than ever. I needed to talk to her, to discuss everything, to sort everything out. We had a lot of trouble up against us, and it was starting to feel dire.

  This time, I made sure Mark wasn’t around when I walked in as quietly as possible.

  While it was second nature to me not to try to stand out at a hospital, I was more than a little displaced by the feeling of trying to be invisible. While it suited Wingdinger more than Hamilton Dinger, invisibility was never something I was good at on a public front.

  I reached Raiya’s room and knocked quietly, more to check to see if there was a nurse stuck in there than to see if Raiya was awake. Although I did want her to be awake. I wanted to see her.

  I should have been used to disappointment by then.

  For a good hour after I stepped inside to see her, Raiya continued to sleep, while I continued to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in and out in a rhythmic pattern.

  She’s added such music to my life since she came, I thought half-jokingly. And for all she made my life better, hers seemed to just drag.

  It doesn’t take you long to get bored, especially if you’re smart.

  I thought about how I’d seen her heart, the realm of art and music and messiness. It was a world so different from mine, but still one that called to me.

  Thinking it over, I decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea. I could try to see her realm of the heart and see if I could help mend the division in her heart, soul, and mind, to see if it could help her with her body.

  I placed my hand over her heart again, surprised by the slight warmth. She wasn’t wearing her armor this time, just one of the silly sleeping gowns that hospitals provided. Clear of armor, her body seemed a lot more fragile. I took her wrist in my other hand, same as before.

  Pushing my power forward, I reached into her heart.

  Instantly, I regretted it.

  This time, there was no solid place, but worlds overlapping with different ideas and memories.

  Some of the memories caught my attention.

  I saw a car accident through her eyes, as the Norwegian night sky crashed into the murky waters of a disguised lake, hidden from the moonlight.

  I squinted and paused; as horrifying as it was, I couldn’t look away.

  But that wasn’t all that was surprising. When the car hit the water, and the water rushed inside, a bright light sparked against the cold and the dark.

  It was Adonaias.

  I watched as he reached out and grabbed a hold of her.

  “I am waiting for you,” he said, the same as when he told her that before, in Lake Erie, when Maia had attacked her and I’d gone after her.

  My mouth dropped open as I watched him pick Raiya up out of the waters, his hand pulling her toward the edge of the water.

  “What was that?” I blurted out.

  Before I could get an answer, another memory was called forth.

  There was Grandpa Odd, unchanged from how I knew him. I watched as he picked a small, seven-year-old Raiya up, hugging her and taking her home, and promising to take care of her.

  I watched for a longer time as Grandpa Odd told her the truth of Adonaias, the Prince of Stars, and oversaw her training. He strengthened her dedication, fed her desperation, and encouraged her daydreams.

  This is too much, I thought. I need to get out of here.

  But then, I saw me.

  I saw me at the play, with Mikey and Poncey and Gwen and Tim Ryder. I saw the backdrop where Raiya had painted the background.

  I saw myself walking on it, tripping over it, and falling on it.

  I flinched. Was I really that clumsy?

  Confusion came when Raiya saw me close up; a moment later, I felt the strange sensation of remembering me, and remembering her longing for me …

  And then, as I opened my eyes to the real world again, I saw her eyes, dewy and damp with tears; and then she was crying, and afraid, and vulnerable, holding onto me with all her strength.

  “I’m sorry! It’s okay,” I told her. “Everything will be alright.” I hope.

  Why did she have such a hard life, anyway?

  “Her soul is broken,” I said, muttering to myself as she buried her face in my chest. Adonaias had spoken to me before, saying that her soul had been broken. “Why make her go through even more pain? Or is it just unavoidable, since we all seem to be broken?”

  I sighed. I remembered the comfort and power I felt when Adonaias had come to see me before. I knew he was powerful. I knew he was kind, or he had been kind to me. I knew he was merciful. I mean, I was the Star of Mercy, right? If I knew anything, it was that he should know what that was, at
least.

  I knew that Raiya certainly loved him; I mean, really, she was just about dying to see him.

  “Why?” I asked, still talking to myself more than anyone else. “Why do this? Why let these things happen?”

  I wasn’t expecting an answer. I’d grown used to the idea that there were just no answers for some things that happened in life. Reason fell short, love wasn’t enough, and reality could be brutal.

  So I was not expecting an answer. But I got one. Or part of one.

  “Because once something has been broken, it becomes more precious than before.”

  How was that possible?

  I guess I could see it in my own life, somewhat. My relationship with Raiya, for one. Mikey’s trust, for another. Even on some level, the plans I’d had for my life.

  If it was one thing I knew from all of that, people would pursue precious things.

  Speaking of precious things …

  Raiya’s arms tightened around me as she finally opened her eyes again and quieted down. A deep sigh escaped from her. “Hamilton.”

  “What? No ‘Humdinger?’” I teased.

  “Not today, I guess.” Her eyes glowed in the soft lighting. “You seem preoccupied. What are you thinking about?”

  Somehow, “Your existential fate” didn’t seem like an answer that she would want to hear. I laughed and shook my head, trying to distract her.

  “Just thinking about the SATs. They’re coming up soon, and school’s just been slow lately. Would you want to study with me?” I asked. “I’m going to actually try to study, even though I know it’s not usually my style. I don’t want to be the person who gets a 798 on the English section because I was busy worrying about slaying a dragon.”

  Raiya lost her smile. “People forget that in real life, the dragons win more often than we would like.”

  “Come on, it’s the SATs,” I said. “It’s standard, and you’re in some of my classes. I’m sure you’ll get a score that’s at least above average.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to take it,” she finally replied.

  “Why not?” I asked. “Are you afraid I’ll get a better score than you?”

  “No.” She shifted uncomfortably in her bed. “I’ve decided to drop out of school.”

  “Is this because of your attendance?” I asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I have enough credits through Rosemont and Apollo Central that I can enroll in a GED class.”

  “Why?”

  “It’ll be easier to fight Draco if I’m not at school, for one,” Raiya said. “You really should be able to see the advantage in that.”

  “I’ll agree less school is generally a good thing. But then I wouldn’t get to see you.”

  “It’s a sacrifice we’ll have to make,” Raiya muttered apologetically.

  There was something too strange and too familiar about the way she said that. “This isn’t because you’re thinking you’ll have to die again, is it?”

  Raiya flustered, and I knew it. I knew it!

  Anger boiled up, fast and hard and relentless. “You’re going to sacrifice yourself again.”

  “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it, Hamilton—”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I said. “You promised me. Your word will bind you, remember? You promised me that you would live for me.”

  I could see her regret and frustration clearly, even without being able to read her emotions directly on her face.

  “Grandpa knew me very, very well,” she said carefully. “He knows my weaknesses, he knows my family, he knows about you, and Elysian too. How can I not think he’ll manage to beat us? And how can I not know that death will come to me before I allow it to hurt you?”

  I took her hand. “We can still defeat him. Elysian says it will be some time before he’s up to full power. Besides, Justice is going to be the end of him,” I told her. “Prophecy is on your side.”

  “But I don’t want to kill him,” she admitted. “That’s why he didn’t kill me when he had the chance. He wouldn’t have been able to just kill me. He knew my power better than most, and he raised me and taught me and pushed me toward you, all so he could make me stumble and destroy myself.”

  “But you didn’t,” I told her. “You didn’t drink the water from the River of Life.”

  “You saved me.”

  “See? That’s more irony for him then,” I said. “He thinks that he’ll win because you and I have found each other again. But he’s wrong.”

  It was more than instinctual for me to reach over and kiss her again. The spicy sweetness of her wrapped itself around me, and I knew, as she did, that we had settled into each other.

  I liked how she’d said it before: She was home when she was with me. I could easily say the same.

  “I’m still worried,” Raiya said.

  “Me too,” I said. “But we can’t look back. We just can’t. We have to keep going on.”

  She barely nodded, but she agreed with me in the end. “Yes,” she said. “You’re right.”

  I thought about trying to make her feel better. What can you offer someone when you’re staring down an impossible task and fearful that the end of the world might come before you complete it?

  The surge of protectiveness from behind my heart fluttered, and I knew what I could do.

  I pressed into the mark on my wrist, gently, only wanting a momentary transformation.

  “What are you doing?” Raiya asked.

  “You’ll see,” I said. As my wings began to form out of my back, I reached behind and pulled a feather free.

  And tried not to scream. I managed to conceal the sudden spike of pain, I think, but I still needed a moment to make sure my voice would work properly.

  “Are you okay?” Raiya asked.

  “I’m more than okay,” I said, the pain already lessening as I held out the feather. It was long and red, the flames burning quietly. “Here.”

  When she just looked at me, I finally reached out and tucked it into her hair, just as she’d worn it as Starry Knight when I first saw her. “This feather is for you,” I said.

  “You know this isn’t a real feather, right?” she asked. “It’s a part of your soul.”

  “Well, that might explain why it hurt so much to tear it off myself.” When she tried to argue again, I shook my head.

  I wasn’t ready to ask her to marry me. I was young and we were up against the world. I didn’t want her to feel more pressure. I also didn’t have a job or a high school diploma or a reliable income. Those things would wait, and I would wait along with them.

  “Keep it. I want you to have it,” I told her.

  Despite what doubt or fear she might have felt, I was rewarded a moment later. She latched onto me, her emotions dancing all around in joy, love, and hope.

  I held her for a long time after that.

  Moments later, Raiya pulled back from our shared warmth, gently running her fingers down the feather in her hair. “I know I’d be keeping you from studying for the SATs,” she said, as she fiddled with her sheet, “but let’s go over the information we do have so far. It might help us make our next set of plans.”

  I grinned, sliding down and sitting next to her in the small hospital bed. “I’m an expert in avoiding my study time for the SATs,” I told her. “There’s no point in changing that now.”

  We would face this battle together. Whatever the future held, we would find a way to make it into forever.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Reader,

  I always like to close out my books with a little note to you, to let you see past the curtain of my words and glimpse into the heart of my world. I’ve struggled with this book’s note, probably as much as I’ve struggled with the book itself, no doubt largely because of its theme, and also because of the application.

  I’m sitting here writing this on the eve of a special anniversary. As of this moment, my husband and I have been together for nine years, dating for two and then mar
ried for seven. (I refer to this day as “Yay Day.”) And while it is a very special occasion, not too many people know the deeper implications it has for me.

  This is the same date, three years prior to meeting my husband, that I was dumped by my last ex-boyfriend. He broke my heart some, but my pride more. “Yay Day” was formerly “Yuck Day.” That was the day I swore I would never get married, that I would cling only to God and his mission for my life.

  That’s a tricky thing, telling God what your life is going to be like. I couldn’t see past my pain and my pride. But he did. And he not only gave me someone to love, and someone who would love me, but he redeemed “Yuck Day.” “Yuck Day” was reborn as “Yay Day.”

  What does this have to do with this book? I think most of it has to do with this book because there is something absolutely beautiful about innocence.

  In the believer’s journey, trials come up that give us (and our heroes) a chance to see the real vs. the disingenuous, both inside and in the world around us, and the difference between innocent faith vs. virtuous faith.

  It’s a consistent theme in literature, that the loss of childhood innocence teaches us that life is not all rosy and pleasant, and we must find a way to survive in such a world. (Hint: It’s not easy!)

  Disappointment and confusion come, and still we must cling to what we know to be true. Our commitment cannot be shaken. The good news is we have a solid place to anchor ourselves in times of storms, we are broken creatures, living in a broken world. Yet we are still pursued by God, and because we have been broken, restoration becomes a more precious prize—to both sides.

  With Continuing, as with Calling, commitment plays a central role. If commitment is a response to acceptance, continuing is the response from the pushback from commitment. This stage is often an underscore, a contra-alto harmony, for the remainder of the believer’s life. In my own life, I’ve likened this idea to marriage. In the best of times, you fall in love, vow to love and honor each other all of the days of your lives, and then, in the worst of times, you get to argue over dinner and gripe over money.

  Continuing on from an innocent faith to a virtuous one is essential for the fulfillment of love, both in Christ and in life. I also see this as part of hope and faith. It was instinctual for me to long for a better life as a child; it is deeply intentional now that I am an adult. It was nothing to cling to God as a child, when trust somehow came easier; it is everything to me as an adult. It was easy for me to have faith as a child; it is both easier and harder now that I am adult.