Feather: Book One

  Toward the middle of the room there were bolts of rich fabric that canopied a large king size bed that was covered in lavish silks and velvet. The downy comforters were completely messed and I realized what Edgar had meant by never coming here. It was like a scene that had just been left, a life suddenly interrupted. He had literally shut the door on my past, trying with hopeless effort to forget something as familiar to him as his own face. My eyes fell on the disturbed coverings and the shape of where I last laid was still wrinkled into the sheets next to another larger indent that was cradled around mine.

  My heart surged with further sadness as the feeling of loss overwhelmed me. I felt like I’d walked in on a scene of someone else’s crushed life. I looked to Edgar but he looked away, pain stinging his eyes. My stomach fluttered with the fear of death as I felt my body shake, my limbs going weak.

  I walked toward Edgar as he broke his calm stature. He leaned his strong body against the wall, his arm shaking. My steps were careful and slow as I approached and reached a terrified arm out to him, gingerly cupping his face in my hands.

  “Edgar,” I whispered, the grief overwhelming me as my soul burst to life and hot tears began streaming down my face. I leaned in closer so he could feel my warmth, “You’re safe now. I’m home.”

  He drew in a shaky breath, his face hallow and worn. His hands dropped from the wall where he wrapped them around my shoulders as I carefully placed my head inside the curve of his neck. His breathing gathered as he placed his hand on the back of my head cradling it as he pulled away.

  I could tell he was harassed by his desires and fighting back his demons.

  “Well,” he paused, struggling with his words, “goodnight Estella,” he held a nervous grin, though I knew his sadness was far from gone.

  I looked at him with eager eyes as he stepped toward the door, “But where will you be?” I asked with a hint of fear in my voice and I thought of the open room across the hall.

  “I have my own room. I don’t want to invade,” he sounded so alone and so sad. He wiped the hallowed look from his face, forcing his playfulness to return. “Besides,” he gave me a relived smile, “We’re practically strangers, at least in your world.”

  I watched him with care as he nervously fidgeted with his hands and I could tell this made him feel awkward. “But will you stay until I fall asleep?” I asked.

  Love was rumbling in his eyes and he smiled. I watched as he walked to a chair that tilted toward the bed and he lowered himself into it. He politely folded his hands across his chest as he smiled at me and I felt content with his position.

  I removed my jacket as I walked back toward the bed, hanging it on the enormous frame post and wedging off my boots. This moment felt a lot less awkward than I’d expected. I could feel the room tickling at a memory deep inside but I couldn’t manage to bring it to the surface. I looked down at my clothes. Sleeping in jeans was never my favorite past time, but considering he had suffered on the floor, I figured I could make do.

  Edgar seemed to notice how I was weighing my options. “I think you have something you can sleep in over there,” he pointed toward a large four door boudoir in the corner that was only shielded by a standing screen.

  I looked at the screen in fascination. There was a golden scene of gently rolling hills embroidered into it and I approached it as the details came to life before me. I ran my hand across the silk thread, so delicately placed that the iridescence amazed me. The thin fibers were rich and soft and each weave was well thought over and expertly placed. I kept my fingers on the thread as I rounded to the back.

  My hands moved to the magnificent boudoir that was covered in gold leaf with a matching scene painted on the front. I placed my hand on the latch where it gave with a gentle crack, the doors opening with a calm stretch. My eyes were met by a glamorous collection of clothing as my mouth fell open. I fished through each hanger with excitement as I noticed that the styles spanned decades of time, from renaissance to late Victorian and even Icelandic. After delighting my senses long enough, my eyes fell upon a simple looking nightgown and I pulled it from the closet, holding it before me.

  I glanced to Edgar as he eyed me with his hands at his mouth, nibbling on his fingers with discomfort, his nerves shaken. He was observing me rediscover my past with curiosity and wonder, remembering what it was like to have me here. Turning back, I timidly snuck behind the screen to change. A part of me still saw Edgar as a complete stranger and I felt awkward. I wriggled out of my jeans and ripped my shirt over my head. The soft twill fabric of the nightgown made me swoon with delight as I pulled it down over my body, its seams grazing my skin like soft down.

  I kicked my jeans to the side as I always did, glancing down and realizing there had also been other clothing kicked there, though it looked old and dusty. I shuddered, thinking it was probably the last time I’d changed, my last day in that life.

  Feeling exposed, I popped my head around the screen where Edgar was still watching with intent, taking in the reality that I was back and alive. As I emerged, a look of both happiness and despair crossed his face. I watched him as another tortured tear rolled down his cheek and he did nothing to brush it away.

  I could only imagine how it felt for him. The stinging irrationality of the whole experience and the three hundred years he spent alone, only half of himself. My heart sank as I felt small and ashamed at my infinitesimal eighteen years of anguish and depression. I could tell that his gorgeous face was drawn for his physical age, sorely torn from the cruelties of this world.

  Walking to the bed, I looked again at the wrinkled impressions. A part of me was scared to disturb something so beautiful. Scared to destroy something I didn’t think was mine. I heard Edgar stand up from the chair behind me, his presence arriving close at my back. His breath blew across the back of my neck and carefully, his arms wrapped around my shoulders and I suddenly felt happiness about this place and a certain beauty in remembering the love.

  He pulled my hair away from my cheek as he tilted his head down and next to my jaw, “Elle don’t be sad.” He brushed his lips across my face to my ear as he whispered, “This is how you should feel. Happy.”

  The feeling of love pulsed in my veins as he slowly let go, forcing himself to back away where he sunk into the large blue silk chair. I turned and glanced at him over my shoulder, looking for affirmation that all this was indeed mine. Raising my hand above the sheets, I noticed it was trembling. With a soft touch, I placed it on the sheets and the feeling was like heaven, silkier than anything I’d felt before. I slid my other hand across the fabric as I washed away the beautiful indents and delicately crawled in.

  I reached for the covers and pulled them up to my face. As they fell around me, I could smell the lingering scent of Edgar wafting out from underneath and it affirmed his presence was once here. I rolled myself into the pillow and the smell there was also eerily familiar and intensely comfortable. Edgar watched me with eyes blue as the sky and slowly, as I tried to force sleep away, my lids became heavy and fell against my will where I fell asleep.

  MEMORIES

  When I woke in the morning I kept my eyes tightly sealed. Fear gripped me as I wondered if it had all been a dream, a fabricated life that my desperately fogged and depressed mind had created. Everything was very silent except the quick breathing of something beside me. I moved my hand as it fell across a warm feathery lump that was curled into the curve of my hip.

  With elated curiosity, I peeked through one eye where the rich and curtained canopy hung above me. Feeling braver, I ventured open the other eye, blinking a few times to remove the blur. The feathery lump to my side was Isabelle and I noticed how her beak was gently tucked under her chest and her feathers fluffed along the length of her back. Her eyes were closed in dreaming and I felt content that it was still truthfully real.

  My eyes darted to the chair beside me, but it was long vacant. My heart sunk as I found myself again alone. The morning light poured into the room in bright w
hite waves, brighter than I’d ever seen. For a moment I thought about Edgar, and the life I had now found. The fear of sudden death was so prevalent in this new life, but to feel was more important and I now found that if being with Edgar was dangerous, it was warranted. I would honor my tortured life, and fight to save it.

  I slid from under the silky covers as Isabelle yawned with eccentric beauty, rolling her body onto her side as she lazed across the bed.

  Sliding my feet along the smooth wood floor, I tiptoed toward a dusty shelf of books that sat across the room from my bed. I squinted at the bindings as I struggled to brush away the cobwebs. The books were vastly different in shape and size, but each was stamped with a concentric but uniform date. I looked at them sideways as my head tilted and my eyebrows pressed together in concentration, my curiosity swimming.

  Looking around the room, as though checking to make sure no one was watching, I gingerly hooked my finger into the spine of a random book labeled 1356. I carefully lowered it into my hand, brushing my fingers over the thick leather cover and feeling the indent of the large numbers that were burned into the hide.

  I opened it to the middle, allowing the ancient smell of paper to waft across my face. Dust fell to the floor like ash, covering my feet with a thin dirty film. I stared at the familiar writing, my eyes following the words in amaze,

  March 11th,

  Today Edgar and I came across another couple, it was the first we’d seen in a few years and we began to fear that our population was decreasing, there must be something after them, either that or they’re losing their self control. Edgar seemed only mildly concerned, but for me, fear was swimming inside me like a lead river…

  My heart stopped as I read the words, written in my careful and unique handwriting. I quickly flipped to another page,

  July 9th,

  The heat today was unbearable, though I begged Edgar to leave Paris, he refused. He said he had a surprise for me. I nearly died when he took me to the bird shop! She’s gorgeous, just the perfect white I’d always dreamed of…

  The happiness in my writing was almost surreal and I touched my fingers to the deep scratches, feeling where the excitement of my script became sharp and heavy. My body was now filled with an intense feeling that washed over my thoughts as a million voices began to ramble through my mind. Voices I’d heard before and people I’d met.

  I slammed the journal shut, my head splitting in pain as the dust flew out of the pages and settled around me. I was squeezing my eyes shut so tightly that all the light was gone. Each voice that was rushing back to me was like a surge of electricity to my brain, shocking every receptor. Everything was so loud that I barely noticed the doors to my room open as Edgar entered and quietly moved behind me.

  I felt a surging fire burst in my heart as he put his hand on my shoulder. I screamed, spinning around and doubling back, my head suddenly dizzy and fogged.

  “Elle!” Edgar rushed and grabbed me as I fell, his toxic touch keeping the emotion inside me burning and the voices clear.

  I fell to the ground and he released me, stepping back with burning dark eyes. My hip hit the wood floor with a sharp wince of pain and the journal flew out of my hand, sprawling across the wood where it slid under my bed. My breathing was heavy as Edgar stared with a horrified look on his face, his instincts ignited with a dangerous spark of fear.

  I put my hand up to calm him as the voices and fire faded, “It’s okay Edgar,” I took a deep breath, bringing my hand to my chest, “You just scared me. You really need to learn how to pre-warn or something, like I said, take up whistling.”

  Isabelle was perched on the edge of the bed, gazing at me with blinking eyes, her curious head tilted as I sat on the floor.

  Edgar’s terrified face began to relax and his lips curled into a smile, “I’m pretty sure you were the one that startled me,” he retorted smoothly.

  I glared at him as I pushed myself off the floor and stood, “Sorry, it’s just that so many things suddenly collided in my mind all at once. I couldn’t help but scream. The voices, the journal, and your lightning touch.” I gasped for air as I steadied myself on the bed frame.

  “The voices?” Edgar approached me in slow steps, wrapping one hand around my neck and lacing it through my hair, avoiding contact with my skin, afraid he’d startle me again.

  “I was reading those journals, I guess my journals,” I pointed to the shelf, “It was like a rush of memories, or rather people I’d met coming back to my mind.”

  He furled his brow, “Well that’s good, you’re beginning to remember.”

  I shrugged, “Yeah, but I still don’t exactly get it. It’s like spying on someone else’s life. It feels so wrong, so voyeuristic.” My voice was hopeless and depressing.

  Edgar’s eyes were glittering, “Don’t feel that way though, just believe in it,” he put his hand on my chest and I breathed in the feeling, “Believe in yourself, this is your life, all around you.” He put his head into the nook of my chin, tracing his lips upward until they met mine.

  I shuddered, the feeling infinitely better than I could ever describe in words. He released his hold on me as he stepped back and my eyes fluttered open again, tears staining my face as they dried into my skin.

  Edgar picked the journal up off the floor under the bed and flipped it over. He glanced at the page and smirked, looking at Isabelle before walking to the shelf and sliding it back in its place with respect.

  I took in the multitude of journals towering before me, my mind swimming as I realized how immense this all was. “How old are we?” I asked, rather taken back in astonishment.

  Edgar’s laughter boomed across the room, causing Isabelle to fluff her feathers in fear, “You are so amusing Elle, especially now.”

  I gave him a blank stare, finding no humor in my question.

  He beckoned me to come closer to the shelf as he reached to the highest plateau and grabbed the first book, opening it to the very first page,

  Rome. Winter 1006,

  There is no way to describe this strange place I’ve suddenly found myself, or the strange partner beside me, but something about him scares me, his dark stare. I’ve been running from him all day, but he keeps coming close, this black raven, just staring…

  Edgar ran his fingers across the page, “You were always recording our history, it was your thing, your way of keeping your soul open to the world.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “We were born in 1006?” I gasped.

  He chuckled, “No, technically in 986. You were born in Rome and I was born in what is now Verona, but you only began writing the first day we met. It was like you were afraid to forget, like some outside force was compelling you to do so.” He snorted, “I guess now, that all makes sense.”

  “So we weren’t born in the same place?” I was confused. None of this was fitting together if we were in fact each a half of one. We should have been discarded on earth in the same place.

  He smiled, “Like I said, we weren’t really born. We just appeared one day, eternally the ideal age of eighteen and very lost. The gods scattered us as they discarded our two halves from the heavens in their jealous rage.” A smirk crossed his face, “I always figured this was all a game for them and we were the pawns, just struggling to find each other.”

  I nodded in confusion, “What happened when we realized we were on earth?”

  Edgar shrugged, “We just began living. There was no memory of what happened, we all found out as time went on almost like having amnesia. I can only imagine what it was like when the early couples found each other. They had no knowledge of their lethal attraction. The first to actually survive their initial meeting was a couple named Gloria and Alek.” He smirked as though he’d known them, “They became rather egotistical about it too, but how can you blame them? To us they were like celebrities. We owe them our life. Because of them, we all began to figure it out and I’m sure it enraged the gods when we began cohabitating.”

  “So then you kn
ew about the lethal attraction when you first saw me?” I thought about my journal entry, how I had ran from Edgar all day while he chased me in his raven form.

  He rolled the journal around in his hands, “I had literally just heard about it and I was skeptical that something like this even existed. But when I found you, I felt the murderous jealousy welling in my heart, right along with the undeniable feeling of love and power. It was so strangely bitter-sweet.” His face suggested he was thinking of the day and his eyes glimmered with remembrance.

  I watched him as he placed the journal back on the shelf, “So,” he said with a renewed tone to his voice, “Not to change the subject, but I really came up here to ask you if you’ve looked outside?”

  I gave him a strange look, “Why?” My voice sounded tart, and a little irritated.

  Edgar motioned me to the tall window draped in silk curtains. As I approached, the light nearly seared my eyes. The fog on the window was thick with moisture and it beaded in cold bands down the glass. I lifted my hand to the pane where I gently rubbed the moisture away. My eyes fell across a meadow of white, completely untouched and pristine.

  “Snow?” I gasped, my mouth gaping as I looked out the window.

  Edgar stood beside me, defogging his own pane so he could take in the view with me, “Yeah, beautiful isn’t it.” His voice was silky as it fell across the glass.

  A light snort escaped my lips, “So much for fall.” My eyes were wide, drinking in the pureness of the snow, each drift like whip cream.

  Edgar let out a heavy laugh, “Fall is dreary anyways, especially in this climate. So really, what are you missing?”

  I looked at him awestruck. It was so utterly beautiful. I had never seen it like this and it was just so clean and perfect.