Consequences (35 page)

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.