Consequences (16 page)

“The more I mature? Cass, I’m already over
eighty years old … trapped in the image of a seventeen-year-old’s
body.” I feel like a child compared to Cassandra, but I need to
defend myself from her degrading tone.

“Child … I am three thousand years old, give
or take a century. I have only met one other Ho Thanatos as old as
I am … and I am still learning new things every day. That is why I
have not faded away like the others. That is why I am still sane.”
I can feel the pride in her mind and heart as she speaks the word
‘sane’ out loud. Reminding me of the ridicule she had to endure for
her entire existence. She truly is Homer’s exceptionally beautiful
prophetess, driven insane because no one would believe her
warnings. She was forced to watch her loved ones die the horrible
deaths she had foreseen ... wanting to help, trying to help, just
to fail because they refused to believe her premonitions.

“Faded away? Is that what happens to us in
the end? I’ve been wondering what happens … why there are so few of
us, compared to the amount of ‘special’ Mortos that must have died
over the years. Don’t all the ones with special talents, such as
Christopher, turn into Ho Thanatos?”

I can feel an unexpected fear swell up inside
me, as if the tide was being controlled by the rising moon, “What
if Christopher doesn’t become one of us?” Eternity without him … I
would fade away; there would be no other choice but to fade
away.

“What a sappy existence to allow your life,
your emotions, your choices, to be controlled by your feelings for
another.” Cassandra shakes her head and I can feel pity rolling out
of her words.

Not wanting to reopen wounds that we have
just started to heal, I keep my sarcasm to myself. “Cass, I hope
you know that without Christopher, I would have never looked for a
mentor. If it wasn’t for Christopher, I would have never tried to
understand what I am, what I could be … that I’m not alone. Love
maybe nonsense to you … but it saved my life, and I’ll never think
of it as an irrational choice of giving up control.” I keep my
voice calm, fighting the anger or whining that is threatening to
rear its ugly head.

As Cassandra turns and walks up the beach,
moving gracefully, feather-light, she doesn’t disturb one granule
of sand. When she looks over her shoulder, peering through her red
hair, I can feel her emerald eyes cutting into me … willing me to
follow. I grudgingly plot my way through the soft, damp sand,
feeling it press up between my toes. I smile in satisfaction at the
deep, heavy footprints I leave behind. I feel like a child,
rebelling in the slightest ways just to feel some sense of control.
Cassandra is right … I know when I’ll look back at my time with
her: I’ll see that she was right about everything.

Flying with Cassandra is always exciting. She
knows that I can’t control when I become solid … unconsciously
becoming substantial enough to maneuver small things, such as
pressing my feet into the sand, but not necessarily able to choose
when I want this to happen. When in flight, she likes to remind me
how much I still need to learn about control, by flying through
cliff faces or buildings … just to stop and wait on the other side
with a smirk, so sure that I will stuck. Of course, she always
knows beforehand, where and when I will become wedged. Part of me
understands that she is trying to make me teach myself how to
control my powers … but listening to her voice, filled with hidden
smiles, irritates me to no end.

Always saying, “Focus on the parts that are
stuck … think about floating through, and let your body remember,
how you used to move.”

Through gritted teeth, calm broken, I always
come back with the same response, “I’ll focus my foot right towards
kicking you!”

This time, my foot is stuck on the inside of
one of the domes at the monastery in Santorini, but Cassandra
doesn’t smirk. She just looks at me with deep concern, flavored
with something like disappointment and fear. “What? Why are you
looking at me that way?”

She looks down at the whitewashed plaster of
the building and then shifts her eyes to the white cross built into
the top of the beautiful, blue dome where I am stuck. “Ellie, you
have to learn to control this, and quickly … they know about you. I
can’t teach you how to command this power; I don't have the
capability to perform it myself, not much more than lightly
flicking a candle’s flame. As a matter of fact, I don't remember
anything quite so powerful, in one so young … at least, not from a
peaceful Ho Thanatos. I’m afraid I can’t help you, and I don’t want
to see you hurt, trapped by your inability to control what is
happening to you.”

I feel the wind blowing off the water and
smell the salt in the air. Gazing down at the waves breaking onto
one another, my body starts to sway, to move back and forth in time
with the waves collapsing against the rocks. I close my eyes and
let the rhythm continue through me. When I feel Christopher’s arms
around me, and the rise and fall of his chest against my back … I
know what I need to do. I let go of all the yearning that has been
feeding me for the past year; the longing to touch and be touched.
I release the knowledge of how to make myself felt by Christopher,
and allow myself to slide entirely back into the veil of ethereal
mist. Never letting go of the rhythm of the waves, the flow of
Christopher’s breathing, the pressure of his touch, I know I can go
back to solid whenever I want … I have found the key.

When I open my eyes, I find myself hovering
in front of Cassandra’s surprised and smiling face. She looks
radiant when she smiles, her olive skin setting a luminescent
background for her bright eyes and flaming hair. I can understand
why she was so highly sought after by suitors in her time … her
beauty and intellect must have been bloody mind-blowing, and a
curse. She was seen as something to be possessed and
controlled.

“Oh, Ellie, I knew you’d figure it out
eventually. I wish I could be of more help to you, but I know so
little about your gifts. Tell me, on your travels, did anyone else
know anything about how special your gifts are?”

“When I left Christopher, I was in a fog …
the exhaustion from our encounter made everything soft and blurry.
When I finally recovered from my fatigue, I was greeted by Tokyo …
of course I didn’t realize that’s where I was at first. Japan was
not what I expected. I thought maybe I was in New York … all the
skyscrapers and lights, so incredibly busy and colorful; it hurt my
eyes.”

“What happened there?” Cassandra asks as she
leads us to the cliff face to look out over the, now dark, sea.

I love Greece, the smells, the sounds, but
most of all, the feel … cherished ancient with touches of modern,
not like America, modern with touches of long-forgotten ancient.
During the day, the water is the most amazing turquoise, and at
night so black you expect it to be thick tar when it washes across
the sand. The Ho Thanatos senses allow me to adjust my eyesight,
seeing in the dark as well as in daylight. But my senses are still
full of mystery, turning the sea at night into oil reflecting
starlight. Then in awe, I watch as the sea crashes to the shore and
sprays up the cliff-side, shining like the clearest, diamond
confetti.

I lick my lips and taste the salty mist,
trying to think of the best way to answer Cassandra’s questions.
This is a role reversal that I am not used to; I always ask the
questions and Cass always scrutinizes me before answering. I have
the feeling earning her trust, enough for her to lower her defenses
just a bit … is a prized gift, and I don’t want to disappoint
her.

Have you ever heard of the Tennyo?” I am more
comfortable being the student; and trying desperately to hold on to
that role, I decide that asking more questions of Cass will serve a
dual purpose: Giving me time to think, and a chance to reminisce
about the meaning of everything I've witnessed.

“Tennyo? Hmmm, female Tennin, right?” I nod
in response. “Yes, I know of them … though, I’ve never actually met
one. They are Ho Thanatos, just like us.” Cass isn’t asking; she is
just making a statement that reinforces her theory that ethereal
creatures exist everywhere in all forms.

“Yes, I believe they are. As you’ve explained
so many times in the past … there are many different appearances
and roles for the Ho Thanatos to take; the Tennin are the Japanese
apparitions. The one I met was incredibly beautiful; she was
convinced that her kimono enabled most of her abilities. When she
first flew up to me, I thought she had wings like an angel.” The
vision of that unusual, pale face with dark, painted lips, and thin
body wrapped in silk and feathers, she took my breath away.

“The long sleeves of her kimono were lined
with the tail feathers of an albino peacock; sleek and iridescent,
gracefully, she landed next to me. We stood not saying a word to
each other, stoically staring out over the harbor. An incredible
bridge lay before us, outlined in lights. The buttress's
reflections glowed in the water, drawing my eyes to the boats
drifting past underneath. The crafts had an elongated shape, and
were glowing softly in hues of red and yellow … I could hear the
tinkling of glasses and plates, and the chatter of the passengers.
When the mesmerizing Geisha first spoke, her voice had a melodious
similarity to the noises on the boats…

“You are new here?” Her dark hair shone with
blue highlights, slick curls cascaded down her shoulders, while the
rest sat on top of her head in a loose bun.

“I’m new to everywhere. At least, I feel that
way … everything is so captivating.” I felt a little ashamed at
admitting my wonder, but the look in her eyes made me feel more
comfortable about recognizing my own innocence.

“Oh, by the look of you … you are not new.
You are just wise enough to look, and see new things.” Cassandra
always enjoys hearing about the philosophies of other cultures, so
I am very careful to remember exactly what the Tennyo said.

Continuing with my story, I tell Cass, "We
stood in silence for quite some time before either of us cared to
speak again. When I heard the most phenomenal flute playing next to
me, I had to smile; ‘music’, that’s what I needed. Looking at my
companion as she played with her eyes closed, I felt an
overwhelming calm flow over me and had to sit down so I could
absorb the sounds. I placed my chin on my knees, and could have
sworn I slept for a few minutes, only opening my eyes again when
the music stopped.

“I asked where we were, and was surprised to
find we were in Japan. I hadn’t even thought about how the rest of
the world had changed since World War Two, but I had to admit that
Japan looked much more welcoming than I imagined.” Cass nods
slowly; I can feel that she is enjoying the story immensely.

“She sounds enchanting.” Cassandra’s voice
pulls me from the memory of my meeting with the geisha.

“I was lucky to have her be the one who found
me, when I first arrived. During our time together, she told me
stories about a Tennyo who had her kimono stolen. The poor creature
was trapped in a semi-substantial human form … unable to soar to
the skies. I asked her, if she had ever heard of one of our kind
choosing freely to become human? She said the lure of heaven was
too strong for a Tennyo to choose anything, but this non-corporeal
life. I think she knew more, but she made it obvious that she
didn’t want to discuss it, so I didn’t press.” So many memories of
my time in Japan; only a few months there had left an impression
that will last forever: ancient memories of a timeless world.

“I believe I know of which tale she speaks:
The swan maiden. A man stole her enchanted robe so that she
wouldn’t be able to fly away. He forced her to marry him and serve
him, until he fell in love with her, and gave her back her robe.
Not willing to hurt her any longer, he granted her freedom.” Cass
shakes her head as she sits down on the cliff’s edge and looks down
at the water below. “Mortos! That is just another example of why we
should not mingle with the living.”

Her gaze speaks volumes … her eyes shift back
and forth as if she was dreaming with her eyes open, and her chest
begins to rise and fall as if she was in the midst of a panic
attack. I can see that she is trying to search through her
thoughts, and finally coming to a decision, she motions for me to
sit down.

“Ellie, how many Ho Thanatos have you
met?”

“Not as many as I thought I would … James and
V in America, two Tennyo in Japan, I met many in India, but none of
them really spoke to me. The only other person that was as
influential and kind as you was Zuvan. He found me during my time
in Africa.” I think of how beautiful and unique many of the Ho
Thanatos are … he was striking even in comparison to the most
breathtaking one of us.

Intimidating in size but not personality, he
taught me how to use my talents on other Ho Thanatos. “Up until
meeting Zuvan, I naively thought Ho Thanatos couldn’t influence
each other. But with his help, I realized that I was already using
my talents; I just didn’t recognize the difference between feeling
humans, and feeling Ho Thanatos. The interaction with our kind is
so much more natural, even passing into our thoughts is as ordinary
as breathing. When I was living as a human, everything was rough
and jagged; evoking and coping was always a struggle … I fooled
myself thinking that all communication through my talents should
always be that difficult. Zuvan, like you, warned me that keeping
others out was the difficult part; helping me to recognize my own
influences was easy.”

Taking my thoughts out of Africa, I return to
Cass’s question about how many Ho Thanatos I’ve encountered, “Then
there was the group I met when I first arrived here in Greece … the
ones that were laughing at me, when you first found me.”