Blood of the Pure (Gaea) (61 page)

“Gaalgha ... Isn’t that what you call us?”

“The
Merifri
call you that,” he corrected.

“So, Alexander explained that we do not feel the same way other Humans do, but, at the time, I couldn’t really understand what he meant,” I confessed. “When things change slowly, a bit every day, we tend to lose sight of how things used to be in the beginning. I always thought I was the same as everyone else ... a bit different, maybe, but a difference on the same level as all other differences that distinguish people from one another. Sure, the world around me was kind of grayish, but that was the normal world as far as I was concerned, and so I knew perfectly well how to deal with it. But then you came along. Now that I look back, I guess what I really feared right from the start wasn’t really you, but the inevitable change your existence would imply. I fought as hard as I could against it, constantly trying to find ways to stop myself from changing, trying to find some measure of support on the outside world, something that would always remind me of who Mariane was. But you, your every single action, seemed to be aimed directly against it. You made me change my clothes, my family, my friends, even my own personality, and no matter how many times I told myself that all these were temporary things, that it would all end one day, the truth is that I couldn’t stop from getting used to all these changes.

“I suppose that it’s in our nature, this ability to adapt,” I continued as he listened attentively. “And that wouldn’t even have been all that bad, right? I mean, if I could adapt to your presence, it seems only natural that I should be able to readapt once you were gone. What I didn’t know was just how much I’m really not like everyone else. Feeling things differently? That’s the understatement of the year! And either I’m really a freak or not even Alexander knows all that much about us. In truth I just can’t feel anything at all, like, nothing. All my emotions and normal, daily reactions are more learned than anything else. I smile because I’m supposed to. Laugh or look sad because that’s what others expect me to do. Alexander says my Soul works independently from my heart, that that’s why she feels things differently and why, unlike everyone else, she wins over my other Human emotions. But, in my case, I really think there’s nothing else inside me. My Human emotions don’t exist, except ...” I hesitated and looked away, frustrated with how awkward and embarrassing it all sounded, but went on. “Feelings like rage, anger, sadness, fear, curiosity ... happiness. The only moments I was able to truly feel these things were during the days you were a part of my life,” I confessed, annoyed at my own embarrassment as I was sure my face was getting redder again. “I never noticed any of this before because I’d never realized just how ... empty I really am. But, after you left, and although in beginning I did feel relieved, as time went by all I could really see was just how ... false I am. It was as if I didn’t really exist, as if I were no more than a shadow.”

I squeezed my hands together, torturing my own fingers to keep the nervousness at bay. I was too aware that what I’d just told him could cause irreparable damage to my own being, but, in the face of the idea that he might leave again, just like that, I was all but willing to take the risk.

“How can you say something like this?” he asked and his soft tone was like a balm for the wounds I’d just exposed. “What about Michael? You loved him way before I came into your life,” he reminded me, but the bitterness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“Michael. Yes, he was always the exception,” I confirmed, “He was the light in my gray world. Just from looking at him, even from far away, my dull life gained new meaning every day. I know it sounds ... ridiculous, saying it like this. But that’s how I felt. And yet, even that seems to have changed. I also thought that, even if you were gone, even if I couldn’t feel anything else, Michael alone would always be my light, but as time went by, not even that was left. And knowing that I can only give him empty smiles, it’s terrible! Almost unbearable!”

“You don’t love him anymore?”

I raised my head and faced his intense gaze. I hesitated for a moment, between truth and lie, and even though I knew he would rather hear the lie, I decided to be as honest as possible.

“I do. I do love him, and now that you’re back I’m surer of it than ever,” I replied and he frowned again. I could easily see the effort it took him to keep his emotions under control and a cold, sarcastic smile tore at his perfect lips.

“So, you’re telling me that my presence here increases the feelings you have for him?” he asked and, as I didn’t reply, his cold laughter filled the air, sending shivers down my spine. “Just perfect.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Is that a question?”

“No,” I answered and we were both silent for a while. “Are you angry?”

“Angry? I can’t even allow myself to feel such things. I do not wish your life to be over just yet, and that alone requires my every single drop of self-control.”

“How so?” I asked, hoping to extend a bit more our conversation, trying to somehow ease, even if just a bit, the heavy atmosphere that had remained.

“The smallest loss of control can be very bad for something as frail as you,” he told me and, before my expression of disbelief, looked around as if searching for something.

I watched as he crossed the room with gracious movements and slow, calculated steps. He went to my desk and grabbed the metallic cup where I kept a numerous amount of pens and pencils, emptying it on the table. Then he turned back to me, the cup between his open hands, and easily joined them, as if there were no cup at all, the screeching sound of folding, creasing metal filling the room. It didn’t even take him a second and my cup was a thin metallic foil.

“Impressed?” he asked, sounding amused, and only then I noticed that I’d been gaping at him.

“Yes ... and no. It’s something that I could have easily imagined, but seeing it like this has a different impact,” I answered and, noticing how my hands had started shaking again, he went back to his place, leaning against the wall opposite to where I sat.

“Last time, when we were attacked by that
Mazzikin
, and I held you, I couldn’t think about anything else. If I was holding you too tightly, if I’d end up unwillingly breaking your bones. Filling them under my hands and knowing how frail they are is ... disturbing.”

I raised a hand, watching it closely, and frown displeased with what his concept implied.

“I not all that frail!” I countered and he smiled, lifting just the corner of his mouth with a mocking expression.

“That depends on the point of view.”

I thought it better leave it at that. I’d never had such an easy, and yet so sincere, talk with him. If it weren’t for small details, like the distance we had to keep from each other, I could have easily marked these moments as common.

“Can I ask a question?” I asked and he folded his arms.

“And since when do you ask permission for that?” he replied ironically and I couldn’t help smiling.

“I remembered that questions used to annoy you and leave you in an impossibly bad mood,” I mocked and he sighed.

“Just ask!”

“Before you left, and even just now, you said you wanted me to smile. Why?” He looked away and stood up straight.

“I better go and see what’s keeping Lea,” he said with an expression that told me our conversation was over, and I jumped to my feet when he took the first step towards the door.

“Don’t you dare!” I commanded fiercely, and he looked back at me with an incredulous expression. “You’re running away because the subject doesn’t please you? I was completely honest with you because I recognized that, just like you said, this is the only way we can understand each other! I need to know.”

“There’s nothing to know!” he harshly cut me off and I knew my cheeks were blushing again.

“I’m not the only one who’s changed! You have also changed!”

“You’re wrong! It’s only the fact that you no longer fear me like you did in the beginning that makes you see it like that! Someone like me, who has lived all I have lived, doesn’t change anymore!”

“Is that what you want to believe?” I asked and he stared at me, angry again. “Or is that what you want me to believe? Izrail ...” I whispered the name for the first time, feeling just how heavy it sounded in my voice, and he took a hand to his face seeming suddenly too tired.

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered and I couldn’t help smile, happy that I’d found a weapon with the same kind of power that my name, in his voice, held over me.

“If you stop calling me my full name,” I immediately negotiated, and he looked at me from between his long pale fingers.

“I don’t mind you using my other name. Just not that one,” he told me and it was my turn to fold my arms critically.

“And since when is Gabriel your name? Every time I have to say it out loud it gives me the creeps at how fake it sounds!” I stated and he seemed indignant.

“Ah, but you don’t seem to have any problems at all with Alexander!” he blurted out and I gaped at him again, ending up laughing, which seemed to confuse him. “What?”

“Nothing ... nothing, really. It’s just that, when you say what you really think you’re kind of funny.”

“Funny?” He looked like he was wrestling against the concept and I just nodded. “In any way, when I said my other name, I didn’t mean the Human name I’ve adopted,” he clarified and only then I understand he was referring to his real name, the name I supposedly had used to evoke him.

“I ... don’t know your name,” I confessed, kind of embarrassed, as if it were my duty to know it. “How could I possibly identify it in all those strange words?” I said in my own defense and he seemed amused with my pout.

“I know,” he admitted. “Actually, no one knows my real name. Besides me, the only one who knew it was the one who gave it to me, and she ceased to exist a few seconds after I was born.”

“Your mother,” I concluded with a solemn tone and he shrugged as if that could clear away the implicit weight of my tone.

“My breeder, yes,” he corrected. “Only that name has the power to evoke me and, in a certain way, to control my power. Or it should, if I weren’t so strong,” he added again with that unbearable smug expression, and I ignored his prepotent statement.

“If she died a little after you were born, and no one else knows it, how do you remember it?”

“No
Shedim
forgets his name after hearing it once.”

“And the other names?”

“They were given to me by others. Izrail, for example, was given to me by the clan leader himself, the first time he laid eyes on me. It means Angel of Death and that’s why, somehow, I don’t like hearing it in your voice.”

I was really tempted to tease him once again. But his embarrassed expression was just too endearing. That really sounded like something important to him.

“And then? What should I call you?” I asked, deciding to omit the fact that I already knew two more of his seven names, and thought that he’d probably answer Skylar, the name Alexander had told me the
Ruhim
had given him. When he finally faced me again, his expression was serious and intimidating, making my heart beat uncontrollably faster.

“Nyx.“ The word seemed to echo in my ears, his violet gaze piercing through me, leaving my mind completely blank. “Although I’d much rather if you wouldn’t use it in front of others,” he added, almost hesitantly. I couldn’t help notice the insecurity his whole being emanated. I was completely absorbed by his every discrete, almost imperceptible moves, the way his lips pressed nervously together, or the way his fingers lightly moved in an unconscious tic. Those were all expressions I’d never thought he’d be able to show, mirrors of feelings I’d never thought he’d be able to feel.

“Is that your real name?” I finally asked and he half-smiled.

“Part of it.”

“Nyx.” I tried saying it and he took in a deep breath, almost as if there was some kind of pleasant scent around him. “What does it mean?”

“Night.”

Yes, it fitted him perfectly, either being his long black hair or his usual coldness and indifference.

“So?” I insisted, going back to our previous subject that he had so adeptly averted. “You owe me an answer.” He looked away once more, but nodded, as if he’d reached a decision.

“Agreed, then. We’ll talk like this from now on.”

“Like this?”

“Forwardly and honestly, without escapes.” I nodded, agreeing, half afraid of what it would mean when it was my turn. “Your notion of me is completely wrong.”

“How so?”

“You see me as someone in absolute control of this situation. Someone above you. Someone that, somehow, commands the direction in which things and events around you progress, right?” I didn’t answer. A few days ago I’d agree in a heartbeat. But now, as his inexpressive face showed more expressions every day, I wasn’t all that sure anymore. “As it seems, things aren’t at all that simple. I also thought they would be, but in truth everything’s much more complicated than that.” I waited for an explanation until I understood that, if I didn’t ask for one, he’d leave it at that.

“I don’t understand,” I confessed and he nodded again, as if he needed to give permission to himself to talk about it.