Ahe'ey - 1 Beginnings (4 page)

He nodded, took a sip of tea, and remained quiet and pensive. The sun touched the locks of hair that perfectly framed his face and the wind transformed them into waves of sun-kissed dark chocolate that danced in front of his eyes.

"Before we go to the Met, I must stop by the Angel of the Waters. I always visit when I am in town. It's a tradition."

Gabriel did not react right away; he kept his eyes on his tea as his long fingers hovered over the rim of the cup. "Sure, I'll take you there on the way to the Met." He was somewhat assertive in his statement, not leaving much room for negotiation. Morgan could not read the man in front of her. One moment, he was smiling and seemed genuinely interested in speaking to her. In the next moment, he was sombre, and his mind was somewhere else.
 

The food was delicious. The waiter served fresh produce, and reassured her that it was all organic and sourced locally. She had some poached eggs with spinach on a beautiful slice of bread full of seeds and whole grains.

The sun was shining, but the wind suddenly picked up. Before she realised she was cold, Gabriel had switched on the outside heater next to the table. His ability to predict her needs was both reassuring and somewhat disturbing. Suddenly his eyes flashed to her face, worried brows meeting. He excused himself abruptly, saying he was going to make the rest of the arrangements for the day and would return to pick her up in half an hour. He had not touched his food.

Water Angels

Morgan took an unusually long time to get ready. She looked at her very pale, tired, and jet-lagged face in the mirror and performed the atypical act of adding some blush to her cheekbones. The bathroom suite had all the beauty items anyone could ever need. She observed her features— defined cheekbones, strong dark eyebrows that framed her large brown eyes, and freckles.
 

She was surprised by her sudden preoccupation with appearance; it was not something she normally cared about. Morgan had long ago decided to stop chasing physical perfection. Then she realised the cause of her current anxiety and smiled, making fun of herself. He's so out of your league, honey, she thought.
 

Many years had passed since Morgan had felt attracted to someone. She'd given up romantic pursuits a lifetime ago. Morgan could not figure out why he tested her peace of mind. He was gorgeous, so what? She rebelled against her feelings, washing her face and tying her long curly hair behind her back. She pledged right then and there that she would stop feeding those thoughts. She wore a simple brown dress, a chartreuse scarf, and plain white sneakers. She prepared a bag with a royal blue evening dress and a pair of high-heeled shoes. Soon there was a knock at her door.

The power games restarted as soon as they walked down to the reception. She wanted to walk, but Gabriel insisted they take the limo. He did not leave room for negotiation, and his tone was firm and authoritative. "It's best we take the limo," he said. As soon as they walked outside the building, she saw James, Carl, and the sedan. The door was already open.

The car went as close as it could to Bethesda Terrace in Central Park. To Morgan's surprise, all three men got out of the car and walked with her. Carl and James stayed behind, keeping a respectable distance. Gabriel walked by her side. Soon, they reached the fountain. At the top stood a statue of a winged angel, water cascading down into a circular pool. Gabriel fidgeted his fingers, his eyes scanning the small groups of tourists that wandered around that popular location.

Morgan attempted to ignore Gabriel's nervousness. She absorbed, with all her senses, one of her favourite places in the world. She believed in magic—the magic of places, the magic of people, the magic of coincidences, serendipity, and fortune. She enjoyed wandering through the world with the open mind and curiosity of a four-year-old child. In her world the mystical, mythical, and magical inhabited the same space and time as the ordinary and the practical. At Bethesda Terrace, she always felt close to a source of magic and creativity. It was as if she was tapping into the place where dragons, angels, gods, sorceresses, and demons came to life.

"Apparently, Bethesda is blessing the water, giving it healing powers. The lily in her hand represents purity. She assures a pure and dependable supply of water to New York City," she said, trying to capture his attention.

He smiled and replied, "You will be pleased to know that Emma Stebbins, the sculptor, was the first woman to receive a public commission for a major work of art in New York City."

She nodded with enthusiasm and replied, "One of my favourite moments in television was seeing Bethesda come to life in the series Angels in America."

"Do you believe in angels, Morgan?"

"I believe in working towards their virtues—temperance, health, peace and purity." She pointed to the four cherubim that represented those virtues at the base of the fountain. "Well," she smiled mischievously, "maybe not purity."

Gabriel lowered his eyes and frowned. "Yes, the pursuit and preservation of purity can drive prejudice and hate. Many crimes against humanity have been committed in its name. Purity is best applied to water."

She nodded as he spoke. "True. Virtues like modesty or chastity are also related to purity, and are used as an excuse to promote violence against women and girls and limit their rights and freedoms." She paused for a moment, admiring the Angel. "Aesthetically and functionally, I love the idea of winged humanlike creatures masterly carved out of stone and brought to life by magic. Look at her, so perfect; she'll stay there, frozen in time, beautiful, majestic and flawless. If only people could be this perfect…" As she looked into his eyes, she realised that the statue could not compete with the splendour of the man in front of her, "Inside and out," she said abruptly, fighting against her shallow feelings, "I wish people could be this perfect inside and out."

"Like the bronze statue of the Angel of the Waters, those who pursue perfection find themselves paralysed by the possibility of flaw, fault or failure." She saw herself scarily reflected in his words, but she suspected he was introspecting. "Shall we walk back? I'm anxious to show you my surprise at the Met."
 

She nodded, hiding her frustration with his need to control every minute of her day.

Perfection

Morgan's mobile rang. She walked away from the group of men to take the call.

"Morgan, how are you lovely? Did you have a good flight?" The familiar voice on the other side of the line was Ann Surrey, a very distinguished fiction writer, and Morgan's oldest friend. Ann had invited Morgan to join her at her holiday home in Woodstock—a haven for artists, musicians, and writers. Morgan would be visiting after she finished with her commitments in New York.

"It was alright. I'm just completely travelled out right now."

"I can imagine. How long have you been on the road with this speaking tour?"

"Over six months. I really need to go back to London and take a few months off. But first I want to see you. I can't believe we'll be together again in just a few days. How's Don Quixote?"

"Sitting on my lap, purring like a diva, demanding to be petted. He's becoming a fat, lazy bum. So, what's new?"

"All is well; the Foundation is finally getting the attention and support it deserves. I'm hopeful we'll start making a larger impact in the coming years."

"I have no doubt, superwoman. You always achieve anything you set your mind on. I don't know anyone more tenacious and persistent than you. But, how is the love life going."

"You know I gave up on that a long, long time ago. My high expectations don't match my plain looks." Morgan laughed.

"Nonsense. Put yourself out there beautiful. At some point, you need to get off your pedestal and make yourself available. Take some risks. I'm getting tired of seeing you drive the good ones away to avoid getting hurt."

"I wish I knew how, my friend. Are you enjoying—"

"Is there anyone that is sparking your interest?"

"No one. Well... apart from the broody Greek God that I met yesterday."

"How exciting. What does he do?"

"He's way out of my league. Successful, cultured, seems kind and the most good-looking man I've ever seen."

"He does sound a bit intimidating. Single?"

"I don't know. I feel such a strong connection to him, it's ridiculous; we barely spoke."

"Perhaps you could use him to practice getting out there. What could possibly go wrong? A bit of heartache never killed anyone."

"I suspect falling for this guy would be the death of me."

"But you just told me he's perfect."

"I don't know what he is exactly. Probably rich, privileged and spoiled. Looks like that. I bet he's used to having the world at his feet. They have it so easy, these types, you know—the tall, Caucasian, wealthy, handsome men. Doors open, opportunities come knocking. Makes me so mad." 

"Promise me that you won't close like a clam. Give yourself a chance darling. You can't walk around teaching girls to practice self-esteem when you have none. Remember to practice what you preach."

"I wasn't talking about self-esteem. And, there are many ways to give and receive love without embarking on romantic relationships."

"Those words may be empowering to others, but you don't fool me. Don't hide under that veil of preachy superiority. It's in our nature to fall madly in love and to have mind-blowing sex." Ann laughed.

"That stung a bit, you bully. I don't need it. I have plenty of meaning in my life."

"It stung because you know I'm right. Give your brain a day off. Can't you fight stereotypes without rejecting your female sensibilities and sexuality?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to talk about it right now. See you on Saturday my dear."

"Do you need me to pick you up?"

"No thanks, it's all arranged. I'll give you a call when I'm on my way."

"Speak soon."

Morgan lifted her head to look at Gabriel, who stood on the other side of the fountain, observing her attentively.  She couldn't help herself; the discomfort in her own skin magnified every time he looked at her.  She felt ashamed, unworthy and angry with herself. She was a fraud to her community of girls and young women. She raised her head and walked toward him with a smile.
Perhaps you are indeed perfect.
She thought, absorbing his heavenly glow.
Can I trust you with my flaws?
A shiver went down her spine when she heard his voice inside her head.
Yes, you can.

Alone

Thirty-years ago - Ahe'ey

On her fourteenth birthday, Sky chased Gabriel through the woods with her sword in hand. Her body had blossomed in the four years she had been living in the forest with the Ange'el. Sky's curves of fertility softened a muscular frame capable of defying and destroying any creature that stood in her way. She climbed, jumped and ran with the ease and ability of a demigoddess. Her feet barely touched the ground as she followed her cousin up the mountain. He stopped, turned around, and used his foot to roll a large rock in her direction. She jumped to one side rolling on the ground straight to her feet. He ran toward her striking her from above with his sword as she defended the blow using the fallen branch of a tree. He rotated around himself pulling the sword away from the branch to strike her on the other side close to her neck. He chopped off one of many of her copper braids and stopped the blade just as it kissed his cousin's skin. He laughed as he placed one knee on the floor and picked up the fallen braid. As he stood up, she gripped the hilt of her sword with both of her hands and thrust the blade upwards towards his neck. He jumped back. Sky threw her sword to the side, jumped toward him, spun around and using the impact of her full body hit him in the face with her elbow. As he fell to the ground, she placed her knee on his chest.

"I surrender mighty warrior," he said laughing, pulling her body toward him and wrapping his arms around her. He hugged her tightly as she lay down placing her head on his shoulder. He looked at the sky as he touched his throbbing jaw. She saw his cyan eyes turn dark as clouds moved to cover the sun. She lifted her hand from his chest to touch his face as he abruptly jumped to his feet.

"Shall we go swimming at the lake?" There was no warmth in his voice. He started walking fast, she got up confused by his reaction and followed him a few metres behind. He looked back to find her and saw four large Hu'urei approach her from behind.

"Sky, behind you." He held the grip of his sword, took one step toward the girl and stopped.

She unsheathed her sword and turned to face the Hu'urei that ran toward her.

"The last of the royal wombs. This one is mine." Said one of the man as he jumped toward her with his sword above his head. Sky rolled on the ground and planted her dagger on his gut as another Hu'urei jumped in her direction and pierced her thigh with his sword. She screamed in agony and for a second looked back in search of Gabriel. He stood motionless away from her. What are you doing? She thought.

"Don't kill the Yi'ingo; she can't have our children if she is dead." Shouted Iblis.

Sky stood up, keeping her weight on her good leg. Like her mother before her, she faced men who towered over her and were tree times her size. The scars on their faces showcased their rank in society; their bodies did not regenerate as well as the children of the royal bloodline. They lacked the perfection and the beauty of those who carried pure genes.