A fog settles over the treetops, their limbs quiver with partially naked fingers that swirl the mist into spirals of smoke. With the weight of Lune in my arms, I can smell the ozone wafting off his fur, reminding me of the smell of a pending lightening storm. The energy around us feels strange … as if we were being watched by a creature as large as the forest surrounding us. Looking at Ann, I watch her hair hanging in loose curls around her shoulders, framing her face, and flowing in the breeze. With the darkness outlining her eyes … I am drawn into the stark contrast against her fair skin. Molten caramel, ablaze in the moonlight, her eyes hold more than the cautious glare that I’ve come to know so well over the past twelve hours. I can’t think of any other way to describe what I see, except … magic. She transforms before my eyes into a creature of fairytales.
Ann is speaking to Cassandra, and as insane as it sounds, I feel as if I have been transported into another world by simply walking out through the cabin’s front door. This is their world; I never imagined I’d see it with anything but my imagination, and in many ways it still doesn’t seem true. Although, thanks to Christopher, I am starting to genuinely understand there is no need to imagine an impossible world … because we all already live in one.
My empirical mind knows that this is the same Ann I’ve spent the day admiring, and that is the same Cassandra that I cannot actually see … but something seems to have changed. Something is happening around us that is altering my perceptions, and I half-expect glitter to start floating through the air like fairy dust. This is more than the world that has been opened up to me over the past nine months … this is an illusion. I can feel it even through my confusion.
Forcing my mind to pull away from the breathtaking pixie that Ann has become, I notice Christopher has walked closer to the tree line in front of us. Artemis is leaning gently against his leg and gazing up at his face. I can tell she is watching him carefully as he absentmindedly stares into the trees. His slumped shoulders give away his beaten emotions, and exhaustion. He focuses with such intensity at the darkness between the trunks; I could swear that he has been hypnotized by an unseen sorcerer.
Lune starts squirming in my arms, needing to go about his business; he is becoming impatient with my distraction. I gently set him down on his feet.
“Oh, I’m sorry, buddy.” He ignores my apology and walks away drunkenly, obviously glad to be given the opportunity to relieve his bladder.
Although he is understandably incoherent, I'm really hoping he will confirm that something around us is wrong. He walks a few paces away from me, sniffs the air, and finding nothing odd, he proceeds with the task at hand.
Thinking back to what Ann said earlier … I realize that my greatest gift in their world is that I am an ordinary man. The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end, leaving me with no doubt, there is a decided change in the atmosphere … now; I just need to figure out if it is good, or bad. We are all being watched, scrutinized. I can feel it as clearly as a rabbit knows when Artemis has found it -- although, I am the only one that seems to notice.
I feel an interesting mix of fear and relief when I finally hear Ann gasp from behind me. Turning to face her, I can see she is in deep conversation with Cassandra … and by the furrows on her forehead, their conversation holds something important.
“What? What is it?” When Ann hears my voice, she looks at me like she had forgotten I was standing there.
“Michael … go, get Artemis. Quickly!”
I don’t question any further, I just run to Christopher. As I put my hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t even flinch, too absorbed in the forest to respond.
Ann calls over to me, “Leave him, Cassandra says he needs to stay … grab Artemis now!”
Artemis is looking back because her name has been called, but she has no intention of leaving Christopher’s side. I reach down and pick her up; she squirms and groans, but she doesn’t fight.
Walking at a fast pace back toward Ann, who is now holding Lune by his collar, I finally asks what this is all about. Her eyes go wide, and then, I hear the scream. Artemis claws at my chest. As she shifts her paws so that she can push off of me … she starts to growl and I can feel the sound vibrate through my arms.
“Michael, don’t let her go.” Ann's words register much quicker than Christopher’s scream, and it isn’t until I follow her severe stare over my shoulder that I realize Christopher is in trouble.
He is hollering into the trees now; and when I turn to see what has happened, I am surprised to see him on his knees. “You aren’t real! I can’t allow you to be real! I’ve imagined you too many times … NOT NOW! Your absence drove me insane … until I found you with Artemis. Finding you again filled voids, letting me heal and hope. Holding you when I thought you were dying … you broke me, damn it. Cassandra said you lived through that attack, only to be murdered … but you didn’t come back to find me when you had the chance … I will never forgive you. You’re dead! I’m better off with you dead, revenge gives me a reason to live, and then fade into nothing. I can’t allow you to be real.” His voice fades out into a hoarse whisper that sounds like he is begging the trees to close around us, and hold out whatever is coming.
When a delicate, white foot slides out of the shadows, I hear a hiss of air … I didn’t realize that I was holding my breath. Artemis starts rolling in my arms, writhing and growling, demanding to be set free. But I hold her close and continue to watch the beautiful nymph that smoothly moves out of the tree line, and into the moonlight. The creature is somewhat translucent, striking and luminous in the muted light. Her presence is demanding to be watched. In the magic that I’ve felt since we walked out of the cabin … her beguiling appearance reminds me of Artemis for a moment.
The breeze catches her dress and folds it around her body. Every subtle movement is highlighted by the dark maroon fabric of her dress, pressing against her waist and gliding around her legs. She looks like she is walking through a ballet, toward Christopher.
Flowing as elegantly as her body, her long, dark hair blows around her face and chest. When the breeze embraces her locks, they join into the same rhythm as her dress and I can see an energy surge out of every change of position. Gold, brown, orange and red, the energy courses from between her fingers into her legs … from every strand of hair as it shifts and resituates itself against her back. I can even see small flashes of colored lightning streaming into the ground with each step she takes.
Christopher has leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the ground … he is pleading with the woman, “Please, please, please … just go away.” Mewling pitifully, “You’re not real.”
As his words become more and more indistinct, the sound turns into a retching noise and I have to fight the urge to help him. I look back at Lune and Ann, questioning why we are just standing here.
“Michael! Michael! Tell me you can’t see her. Tell me that I’m imagining all of this.” Rasping beseechingly … the pain in Christopher's voice is breaking even my heart. Why are we leaving him to this? Why aren’t we helping?
Fighting my instinct to help, I answer, “I can see her, too.”
“No … no …” His voice disappears into quiet tears as the woman lightly places her fingers on his head, and gently runs them through his hair.
Watching them is mesmerizing -- he shakes his head, and she kneels down, taking his face in her hands. He reaches up, takes her wrists and brings them to his mouth, brushing his lips against her palms and breathing in her scent.
I am mesmerized as I watch the energy that is surrounding her starting to disintegrate, as she seems to become more tangible. She is becoming solid before us, and reason should say that the energy ought to continue fading as she changes … but as Christopher inhales, her light pours into his mouth and nose. His posture changes immediately, and as he sits up to look her straight in the eye, he is almost rough in pulling her to him.
Putting his hands on her cheeks, with his thumbs under her chin, he tilts her
head back, exposing her slender neck. He crushes his mouth onto hers, hard, and then much more softly … stopping only for breath in between his quiet sobs. The hunger between them is unmistakable, and I am becoming uncomfortable watching … but I can’t look away.
Ann has moved to my side, and again, I am pulled out of my reverie by her quick intake of air. “Oh my God, Michael -- look at your shirt!”
She reaches forward to touch my stomach right below where I am holding Artemis. When she pulls her fingers back, they are coated in sticky blood. “Is this from you, or Artemis? Come on, we need to get you inside … and give Christopher time alone with Ellie.”
“Ellie?” comes out in a whisper. Still in awe, wrapped up in the fantastical, I nod, and let Ann lead Lune, Artemis, and me back inside.
The warmth of the cabin is heartening and helps to bring my head out of the clouds. When I bend over to set Artemis down, the pain in my abs suddenly becomes very apparent. I had been holding her so tightly, and I had been so absorbed with Christopher and Ellie … I hadn’t noticed the damage Artemis was doing in her attempts to get away from me.
“Take off your shirt; please … so I can take a look.”
I strip it off over my head, and Ann presses a warm, wet towel to my stomach and chest, cleaning off the blood. Most of the lacerations are scratches, but more than a couple, are jagged cuts. Ann directs me to the shower, to flush out the gashes, and asks if I will clean Artemis up, while I am at it.
Artemis still isn’t happy about leaving Christopher outside; taking up an angry and stubborn stance, she forces me to drag her into the bathroom.
Not waiting for us to step out of the tub … Ann comes in and tosses a clean towel over the shower doors. Using her most efficient tone, she tells me that she has found superglue, butterfly bandages and gauze … and that she wants to look at the cuts again, to see if I will need to shave around them, so that the butterfly bandages will stick.
I wrap the towel around my waist and step out … I’ve never been modest, but I can’t help blushing at the expression on Ann’s face. Moving over in front of the vanity, I lean back against the sink’s marble top. Artemis stays in the tub and tries to shake the water out of her coat. The fur on her abdomen had been pink with my blood, but now, it's white again.
Still soaking wet, she squeezes behind Ann and runs out of the bathroom. I listen to her skidding across the floor and jumping against the front door, demanding to be allowed to check on Christopher. Trying to keep my mind off of Ann’s fingers gently prodding at my wounds, I finally ask what exactly happened outside, and why I needed to restrain Artemis.
“Cassandra saw Ellie coming out of the trees, in a vision … she also saw Artemis attack her. Christopher had such an intense reaction … you heard him; he was so angry and confused. Cassandra said that Artemis misunderstood his response and tried to rip Ellie to shreds. We had to stop her from doing something we would all regret.”
“How did Ellie survive?”
“When we walked outside, Cassandra started to have the visions … the ones that she had been chasing since she witnessed Ellie’s assault by the Symboulio. She said that she could feel the images wanting to be viewed … but they stayed just out of her reach. Then all of a sudden everything that had happened, during and after Ellie’s stabbing, became clear.”
A shock of stinging pain spreads through my skin as Ann cleans inside the cuts with hydrogen peroxide. Pinching the skin together and applying superglue, she announces that she is going to need to shave around the cuts on my chest. The glue will help them heal quicker by sealing out contamination, but I will continue to rip them back open if she doesn’t reinforce them with the butterfly bandages. Gritting my teeth through the fire in my flesh, I nod, understanding that the idiotic, bald patches are much better than infection.
To distract me from her work, she continues telling me about what she learned outside. “You remember what Cassandra said … about the young man that Ellie thought was her friend? The fact is, he wasn’t betraying her … they had a plan. In her time away, Ellie has been perfecting her talent for passing through the veil and becoming solid in this realm. Apparently, she has become so efficient; she can control what parts of her body are tangible and what parts remain ethereal. When the boy went to stab her, she phased her flesh right where the knife would enter … and then as he pulled out, she allowed him to knick her. Accepting the pending pain she let him cut her, giving her the tear in her clothes, the traces of blood, and a small amount of the neurotoxin from the poison to paralyze her, and mimic death.”
“What about the loss of energy? I thought Cassandra said Ellie bled out all of her ethereal spirit.”
“Cassandra also said Ellie was too clever and strong to allow herself to be trapped and killed. From what I understand, Ellie unintentionally discovered how to force her essence out of her body while searching for humans’ minds to touch. While she was still conscious, Ellie forced herself to appear to hemorrhage out of her insignificant wound. By the time the poison kicked in, she had put on a good enough show to appease the Symboulio’s thirst for her death.
"These were the visions Cassandra couldn’t see before, and she finally understood what was happening, after she watched the boy take Ellie’s body to ‘dispose’ of it. Then he waited by her side, for her to regain consciousness. They were both safe, the Symboulio thought she was dead, and they forgave the boy any transgressions … because he killed her.”
I mutter to myself, “Huh, clever … yes, very cunning. Then she came back here to find Christopher.” I am impressed by Ellie’s astuteness, even though her ruse just about cost Christopher his life.
“There, all fixed up. How does it feel?” She runs her hands over my chest and down my stomach, inspecting her handiwork.
As Ann’s fingers stroke my chest, I catch a chill and have to stop myself from grabbing her. Moving so that I can prevent any further contact, I feel the tweak of the bandages and glue.
In response to my flinch, Ann lays her hands on me again, “They will loosen up pretty quickly. But in the meantime, try not to move around too much.”
She is so close … and she smells incredible. Grabbing her elbows and pulling her even closer, our lips sweep over each other and I can taste her breath. Tilting her head and raising up on tiptoe, she presses hard, finishing the contact.
Just as I wrap my arms around her shoulders, melting into what I’ve been wanting since she walked in this morning … a loud knock raps on the bathroom door. Looking up without letting go of Ann, I see Christopher standing in the doorway with a huge grin on his emaciated face.
“Hate to interrupt …” stifling a laugh “… but Ellie and I have something to announce.” He continues to stand there, clearly amused. “And … uh, Michael … put some clothes on, man.” Turning and walking away, he giggles to himself.
I look down into Ann’s eyes and smile to see my own adoration reflected in them, “And just like that … we have the old Christopher back. Shall we?”
She beams and nods, letting go of me; and I miss her touch almost immediately. Placing a kiss on her forehead before relinquishing my hold on her, I feel relief and giddiness flow through me. We have avoided a war, for now … but I know it will come back up, soon enough. Overcoming my own disbelief at the luck of recent events … I just want to enjoy this moment, while I can.
Chapter 22
Binding
I follow Ann out of the bathroom and into Christopher’s bedroom; she heads for the door, and I go to the chest of drawers to grab a pair of Christopher’s sweat pants. After quickly slipping them on, and silently cursing because they are too long, I step out into the sitting room to join the others. Artemis and Lune are standing beside Ann, who is talking to the chair next to the stove. And Christopher has his arm around Ellie’s waist; both standing in front of Ann, Cassandra and the dogs, with their backs to me. As Ann looks in my direction and smiles, Christopher turns and motions for me to join them.
Walk
ing over to Ann, as I pass, I pat the dogs' heads; Lune looks up at me drunkenly, and Artemis can't take her eyes off of Ellie. Again, for the second time tonight, I feel like I am picking up on something that has no effect on the others. I knew that Artemis was special from the moment she was born, and I have frequently noticed her effect on the people around her. Right now, though, the only thing I can perceive from the pup is overwhelming hostility.
Christopher's enthusiasm is staggering, and I can tell that his hold on Ellie is permanent. I smile as he gestures wildly, never letting go of Ellie’s waist. She quietly moves around with his gentle pull, expressing a devotion to him that is unwavering. They look complete, comfortable … as if home could only be found in each other's arms. But mostly Christopher just looks happy … more content than I’ve ever seen him before.
In a loud voice, like he is announcing it to the world, he says, “Ellie and I are getting married … today. I mean tonight.” Replying to a gentle prod by Ellie he amends his statement slightly. “Well, I guess in the morning … seeing that it’s already past midnight. I am hoping you two will be our best man and maid of honor … if you don’t mind.”
Ann and I nod, unable to speak from the happy, although unexpected, shock.
Ellie speaks for the first time, and a peace washes over the room, “I think we can wait for the sun to come up, Christopher. It’s been a long night for everyone; maybe we should get a bit of rest.”
“As you wish.” He sweeps his eyes, thoughtfully over her face, and without saying another word, guides her to his bedroom and closes the door.