Consequences (34 page)

Christopher is only picking at his food, and
in response to my glare, he shovels in a huge bite. Looking at me
with a devious grin, Ann mutters something about being worse than a
mother hen.

While still wearing her smirk, she answers my
question. “After seeing the damage that was inflicted … I don’t
think V will ever be a problem again. If he survived … he’s curled
up under a rock somewhere praying to fade away from the pain and
humiliation.” I cringe a little at the elation in her voice … but
it is understandable. I doubt anyone in her position could restrain
their happiness over not being tortured again.

Looking at the chair where Cassandra sits, I
ask her opinion, being an impartial witness … then wait for Ann’s
voice to enter my thoughts. “I’ve seen more powerful creatures
waste away with less serious wounds. As long as he is unable to
replace his lost energy, I cannot see him surviving his injuries;
no.”

“Then we are in agreement that any immediate
threat has been eliminated?” I am trying to hide my own relief and
excitement from my words … but the giddiness in Ann is
contagious.

Looking around the table, Ann speaks for
herself and Cassandra with an enthusiastic “Yes!”, and Christopher
simply shrugs while he focuses on the bowl in front of him. Ann,
narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips, stares at Christopher …
and I can tell she is communicating with him.

He slams his fists down on the table, and
growls, “Out loud, Ann! I don’t care about V … he was a nuisance!
Now, he’s no longer a problem. I took every bit of fight out of him
… absorbed every bit that I will need to use on the Symboulio. I’m
sorry to turn this into a bittersweet victory, but there is no time
for a respite … V was only a very small piece of what is waiting
for us. We’ve been stupid, Ann; Cassandra’s presence proves it. The
immensity of her world … we’ve been so stupid to think it wasn’t
any bigger than what we have seen thus far.”

He shifts his accusing stare onto me, “You
knew though, didn’t you? You have had an idea of the size, from the
minute I told you about all this… the beauty, the horrors, all the
potential … you’ve known, or at least suspected … didn’t you?”

“Maybe, I did have an idea … or at least an
impression of how vast and ancient their realm is. I never kept my
awe from you though, Christopher. How can any of us understand that
this is, possibly where we originated … they surpass time in
folklore, did we create them … or like the stories foretell: did
our consciousness, our souls, start there? Maybe, Christopher,
instead of fearing what’s on the other side … or here for that
matter … how about we accept that we are all part of the same
primordial soup; we are all stardust. We are all capable of
tremendous horror, and incomprehensible beauty. Perhaps if you look
at it that way … you’ll let go of hate and accept that this is just
another part of life.” Voicing my thoughts helps pull together my
ideas, and seems to take some of the combativeness out of
Christopher.

Thoroughly surprising me with a smile that
touches his lips, and then flows into a very strange laugh, he
chokes out, “You sound like Ellie. When we first met she went on
and on about an unconscious connection inside everyone and
everything ...” still laughing with a bizarre desperation “…God,
she would have loved you!”

Ann places her hand on top of his and
squeezes his fingers. In response to the affection he pushes his
bowl away, crosses his arms, and puts his head down on the table,
where he sobs quietly. Ann doesn’t let go of his hand, and we all
sit, trapped in an uncomfortable silence, watching Christopher
mourn.

Muffled slightly, talking into his sleeve, he
finally speaks … but without any of the previous rage, “I have to
go where she died. I have to see if I can feel her … to say
goodbye. I have to find the people that are guilty of doing that to
her … I have to kill them.” No anger, no resentment, no
overreaction … he is calm, making a statement based entirely on
fact.

“I can’t speak for anyone else, but I want to
go with you. I know, I’m not talented like you or Ann … but I think
I can help.” I am not requesting … I just know that helping
Christopher is the right choice. At my brother's side is where I
need to be … apparently on the frontlines of a one-man war. Well …
two-man, now.

Ann confidently adds her voice to our little
army as well, “Cassandra wants to go home, and I may be able to
give us some influence … being a member of the American council.
We’re in, too … whatever you need, wherever it takes us.”

Christopher rolls his face toward the sitting
room where Lune and Artemis are resting. Artemis perks up as eye
contact is made; she rises, slowly walks toward him and places her
head in his lap. I hear him say, “So, I guess you want to come,
too?”

He raises his head and lowers his hand to her
ears; Artemis lifts her nose and presses upward, covering the
distance between them, finally making a connection with
Christopher’s touch ... and mind. He sighs deeply as she enters his
thoughts, and smiles again as he scratches between her ears. “All
right, all right … let’s go outside and get some fresh air.”

Christopher deliberately avoids eye contact
as he stands; he has no intention of acknowledging our offers to
join him. He walks stiffly over to the front door, opens it for
Artemis, and follows her outside without another word to us.

We all continue to watch him stupidly,
waiting for him to recognize us, even as the door closes with a
soft thump. Looking back at Ann, I ask both her, and Cassandra,
what we are going to do if he doesn’t want our help … if he
outright refuses us?

I am getting used to the transition between
Cassandra’s mute mouth speaking in my head using Ann’s voice, and
watching Ann form her own thoughts on her lips. I don’t exactly
know why I’ve accepted these people, or my role here, so thoroughly
that I am willing to leave my life in Montana behind … but, I do
know there is more than my infatuation with Ann at play. I have a
need to protect this miraculous world, and the secrets that it
contains … a compulsion I know all too well. It's the same as the
one that has led me to such a healthy respect for nature, when I
strove to become a warden as a younger man. Now that I understand a
more complete reality, I can see this is exactly why I’ve been
studying folklore for my entire life. I belonged here, I was always
meant to be here, and nothing is going to stop me from fighting to
keep it safe.

“Michael? Are you listening?” Ann sounds
concerned. Her silent inquiries from earlier are still bothering
her, and she must have decided now is a good time to air them.
“What has been bothering you? Christopher never should have brought
you into this … he knows better!” I can imagine Cassandra nodding
her head in agreement. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve seen, and
been exposed to … but even if I could take it all back, I wouldn’t.
Michael, if it wasn’t for you, Christopher would be dead, and I
would be lost as to why. We need you … I need you … to help me
figure out what to do next.”

She knows my response, and reaction, toward
what I’ve witnessed since I’ve met Christopher. Without waiting for
me to explain myself, she has answered my thoughts concerning my
own confused perceptions. Without her knowing for sure what I’ve
been puzzled by, in particular what I think I saw in that strange
wolf, she knows it is my worth and ability that I’ve been
questioning the most. There is no need to skirt around my fears of
insulting her; she saved me from inserting my foot into my mouth. I
still don’t think I am able to see things as clearly as someone
born to their world, with special talents … but I am ready and
willing to embrace what I do know, without skepticism. So I nod,
and ask what she thinks our next move should be.

“First, I’d like to know what you think about
Christopher’s state of mind. How much of a threat is he … to
himself, and us?” She is all business again, and since she is
speaking out loud, I'm pretty sure this is only a concern to
Ann.

“I think that a man, who feels he has nothing
left to lose, is delusional and dangerous.” I state it as a matter
of fact, not an insult; and Cassandra voices her agreement with my
observations.

In a mildly defensive tone Ann says,
“Assuming that is what Christopher thinks … then we have to break
that mistaken belief and force him to see that he is not alone. I
think that we should stick close to him from here on out. We need
to remind him that he has a family … and we need to protect him
from himself until he finds a way to heal.”

“That will be harder than you think … no one
has absolute control over someone else’s soul; if he doesn’t want
to mend, there is no way to force him. At this point, it would be
like bringing life back to the dying; he has to find a reason to
live. Christopher’s soul was freely given to Ellie, and she took it
with her. The only person that could possibly heal him would be
Ellie. We may never be able to provide enough support to someone
who is as badly broken as Christopher is now.” I have been trying
to find a way to identify with what Christopher has been through,
and ultimately I keep returning to Lilly. Knowing that she is out
there, alive and well, never to be with me … but alive; I can find
comfort in her existence and the possibility of seeing her again.
But, if she was killed … especially murdered … I’d be heartbroken
and haunted forever. My attachment to Lilly is only a small degree
as powerful as Christopher’s connection with Ellie … and I fear
that he may be shattered beyond repair.

“We can’t give up on him.” I can hear the
pain in Ann’s voice, begging for me to give her a different
answer.

“I’m not saying we should give up on him …
I’m just saying, be realistic. He may not want us around; because
he thinks that we will interfere with his plans. Maybe we should
just take it slow and talk with him first … let him believe that we
have no desire to stop him from doing what he needs to do. We are
just going to help him accomplish whatever it is, even if that
means he plans to …”

I let the thought hang there, because it is
against my nature to finish saying it, so Ann finishes it for me.
“… Even if that means he plans to kill himself afterwards.”

I nod, and silence settles over the table
like a thick blanket of clouds. We are in agreement, our silence
binds our decision … and we all know it. This is what I wanted -- I
hold an undeniable place in their world now … God, I hate it.

Our stillness created a spell that is broken
by Lune stirring. With the pain killers in his system he isn’t
uncomfortable, but his mobility is hindered by his drugged brain. I
understand almost immediately that he must need to go outside.

Leaving the ladies to continue their somber
contemplation, I walk over to Lune. He doesn’t really need to be
carried, but for the sake of convenience and speed, to avoid an
accident, I pick him up and take him out into the night air. I can
hear the soft rustle of Ann moving behind me … it appears that she
needs some fresh air as well, or maybe, just a reason to move away
from our last conversation.

The bite of fall greets us with a cold breeze
that cuts through my shirt. As my eyes adjust to the night, with
the help of the soft light spilling from the front door that is
still ajar; I can see Christopher standing about fifty feet away.
He is watching Artemis run happy circles around his legs. Our
bright furry friend seems to glow in the moonlight … her coat
demanding attention as it glimmers in the gentle wind. The moon is
peeking out and then hiding its face momentarily as wispy clouds
drift past. It is almost full … casting radiance from the west,
throwing long shadows, making everything seem hazy.

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.