Enlightened (Love and Light Series) (20 page)

Rachel blew out her breath as the chair legs banged into the floor. “I know they’re old myths.”

“And what do you know about those myths?”

Rachel bunched her forehead. “I’m not sure. I’ve read they were spirits who could walk on light, travel on light waves through space and time. What does that have to do with the two of them bonding without blood?”

“Have you ever wondered why he hangs out with a tribe of healers?” Margarite put her mug down and spooned more oatmeal into her mouth.

Rachel nodded. “He told me they were special, attached to the ashram. And he was interested in Calisto’s theories of dharma.” Rachel poked her spoon at the puddle of melted brown sugar.

“Wolf’s been interested in the nunne’hi myths since before he was turned. He’s been looking for them. Calisto thinks Loti is one, and what we saw the other night at the lotus shrine indicates she is something unique. They are something unique together.”

Rachel stared at Margarite, not sure what she thought about what the woman had just told her. “Nunne’hi aren’t real. They’re the new world equivalent to leprechauns or brownies.” She waved a dismissive hand over her oatmeal.

“Mmm, maybe, maybe not.” Margarite flipped a hand and tilted her head. “Wolf has been looking for a purpose, Rachel, and I think he’s found it. Do you know why he chose to become a vampire?”

Rachel shook her head, eyes wide. “He never told me. I didn’t know he chose to be one. I thought . . . well, I guess I made an assumption.”

“Well, I’ll let him tell you that story. It’s not my place.” Margarite tucked her hands around her mug.

Rachel rubbed her face with both hands. “Ah, don’t do that. Don’t start something and not tell me.”

Margarite shook her head. “That’s for Wolf to decide if he wants to tell you. Ask him. Maybe he will.”

 “I haven’t seen Wolf in a long time. We’re still getting to know each other again. I was only 19 when he left.” Rachel put her spoon down and stared back at the living room, but Wolf and Nan weren’t on the couch, anymore. She stretched awkwardly but couldn’t see them.

A gentle smile spread over Margarite’s face. “You mustn’t take his absence personally. They don’t perceive the passing of time as we do.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Ten years is nothing.”
But it’s something to me,
Rachel pouted.
A really big something.

Margarite tilted her head. “I think the rain has stopped.”

“Thank the Goddess,” Rachel muttered, grabbing her spoon and shoveling the sweet oatmeal into her mouth. The rain had stopped, but a loud gust of wind rattled the windows on the second floor. The women looked at each other in alarm.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Katie, I’m sorry.” Wolf stared down at his black boots, his hands hanging between his knees.

“I know you are. You’re always sorry, afterwards.” Katie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the couch.

“I’m trying to make amends. The least you could do is—”

“What? Forgive you one more time? Phpptt.” She rubbed a tired eye.

Wolf scowled. That was it. He’d given it his best shot. He reared up and stalked to the fireplace.
Enough already
. She did this out of spite, making him pay by dragging it out as long as possible—like she’d always done.
You’d think she’d grow up after fifty years.
Her delicate hand grabbed his wrist before he could push the trick panel.

“Wait,” she half pleaded, half commanded.

He spun around, frowning. “What?” The day-sleep stinging rose up his neck, but he wasn’t positive it was just the day coming on.

“I accept your apology,” she said in a rush, her eyes watery.

His tense face relaxed a smidgen and he hugged her. They held onto each other for a long time, and it was Katie who broke away, stroking the buttery sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Is this the same jacket?” She wiped her eyes.

“Yes.” His voice was gruff.

“You don’t believe Patrick is capable of this, do you?”

“No.”

She nodded, rubbing the back of her neck as she turned to the fireplace. She held her hands over the flames. “It’s been so cold. I hope Loti’s okay.”

“Me too.”

Katie snapped her head up at the apprehension in his voice. They’d known each other since she was nineteen years old, and she never heard that inflection from him, not in all the years since they’d first met.

“You’re worried,” she marveled.

He looked away.

“Do you love her?”

“Katie, I just met her.”

“That doesn’t matter if you’re bonding, and you know it.”

Taken aback by her ire, he shoved his hands in his pockets, locking his face down.

“She’s a precious thing, Wolf, and don’t you forget it. She’s been through hell and back, and she’s like a granddaughter to me so don’t mess with her.” She jabbed an aggressive index finger at him.

“I wouldn’t mess with her,” he grumbled, shifting his feet.

“Not on purpose, you wouldn’t. You don’t mean to hurt the ones you love, but you do all the same.” Katie snatched the poker off its hook and stabbed the burning log several times.

“I’m sorry, Katie. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” He growled as he slapped the trick board and the wall clicked forward, sliding open. She was beside him before he could step through the threshold.

“Wolf, wait.” There were more tears on her cheeks.

He ran a hand through his long hair.
Why are women always crying around me
?

“
I’m
sorry,” she choked out.

Leaning his forehead on the wood paneling, he closed his eyes. He felt her small, warm palm against his check, and he lifted his head to look at her.

“I always said it would take someone very special to break through your walls.” Her smile wobbled. He covered her hand with his, lowering his eyes.

“Let her in, Wolf. Don’t make the same mistakes all over again.”

He inhaled through his nose as he flexed his jaw. “I’m sor—”

She cut him off with a kiss. “No more. No more apologies. We’re done with that.” She spoke into his mouth.

He kissed her back, briefly squeezing her hand, then guided it away from his face. They looked into each other’s eyes.

“The sun’s coming up,” he said.

She nodded, her haunted eyes forlorn.

Scooping a palm of ice cold water from the puddle she knelt in, she slurped up the rain water. The cold liquid felt fantastic on her burning throat. She hummed the old Christmas special tune off-key as she plopped onto her soaked butt, her gaze wandering over the mountain side. She’d climbed above tree line just before dawn and that puzzled her, but she couldn’t remember why.

Because you’re in Virginia. There’s no mountain high enough in Virginia to be above tree line.

She giggled as the lyrics of an old song came to mind. Leaning back on nothingness where hands should have been, she shifted her weight to her knees, and brought her hands to her face. Where were the gloves? Oh, she tossed them last night when she’d been burning up. Her jacket was unzipped, and her Henley shirt was ripped. The faintest of trails snaked off between the low rocks and gray ground and then disappeared as if it dropped off the face of the earth. She fought to get to her feet, but couldn’t make her legs support her.

“Dammit,” she mumbled and crawled mudder-style toward the drop off.

Peering over the edge, dizziness blurred her vision. It took a minute, but when her sight cleared, she saw the trail descended over a scary looking tumble of boulders. She had a flash of clinging to a slick, green rock, trying to get enough purchase with her booted toe to shove herself up, slipping and grabbing at a scrubby bush. It had ripped free.

“How did I hold on?” The sun broke through the cloud cover.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The crawl from the drop off to the summit seemed painfully long, and in that time, the sun cleared the horizon. A few clouds smudged the shivery blue sky. Loti squinted at the brown and evergreen landscape spread out below. Like bits of broken glass ponds and snippets of the river glittered and ox-bowed through the forest. A razor-like ridge cut across the summit and curved down the north face of the mountain. Her head spun with the smell of crisp oxygen, the bite of cold air on the back of her throat, and the stiff ache of her arms and back. Lost in an empty and frantic mind, Loti grasped at the sensations, anything to anchor her. She wriggled her shoulders between two rocks to get out of the wind. Stiff-limbed, she sat up and tucked her numb hands under her arm pits, drawing her knees into her chest. Wiggling her toes inside soaked boots, she rocked forward and back, forward and back on her sits bones.

“If I want to change the reflection,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said to the raven soaring by. Rocking. Rocking.

“Oh, Loti.” Her Gramom sat down beside her, shaking her head.

Loti wept. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want,” she said between gags. She collapsed on her side and wretched up the water she’d drank out of the puddle. She spit the sour bile out, and whined at the prickle on her neck.

“Wolf?”

The wind whistled through the rocks. She pushed at the ground.

“Gramom?” She craned her neck, but her grandmother was gone. She gasped for air as the corners of the mountain collapsed in on her. The hair on the back of her neck stood.

“No more!” Her voice cracked.

Something crashed into her soul like an angry ocean wave, and she screamed wordless terror into the brilliant blue sky. She sucked down the cold air and screamed again as her head struck the ground, her hands bunched under her chest. Cold granite hurt her cheekbone. She couldn’t move.
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe
. Darkness swirled toward her, the world winking out.

Blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The bottom of her stomach lifted into her chest as she fell into the black abyss.

You are done.
A glowing pair of orange eyes in the blackness stared through her.

 “I want to change my reflection.”

No.

No more.
That was David.

“I can’t stand myself anymore. It never gets any better. It never changes.”

Blackness. Utter silence.

Who can’t you stand? Who are you talking about?

She slammed onto her back, bouncing softly in slow motion. When she settled, a cool breeze blew over her. She opened her eyes to the revolving ceiling fan in their bedroom; the moonlight glowed through the bare windows. She shivered at the black window glass. The bed creaked as David sat up beside her.

“Who can’t you stand?” he demanded.

She rolled over on her side and touched his arm. David.
Oh, my David.
“Myself.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a coward. I’ve never done anything special or brave.”
And I don’t want to be bothered by my life too much.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m broken,” she whimpered.

“Why do you think you’re broken?” David threw back the covers and turned his bare back to her, hanging his legs over his side of the bed.

“Because I don’t work right. I can’t make myself work right.”

She reached out to touch his back, but he stood up and her hand fell to the cool, flannel sheet.

Blackness.

“You’re done,” she whispered.

No more

You’re done.

“No more,” she whispered into the dirt, cold sunlight and icy wind on the back of her neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Find something to feel grateful for.

She sat in the pew at the funeral parlor, staring at the too small, wooden box on the table surrounded by white lilies, pale peach roses, green orchids, chrysanthemums, and variegated greenery.
That’s all that’s left of David.
Did they separate David from the pine box they made me buy to burn him in?
Is there any difference between them? If they put the ashes under a microscope, would they look different?

Blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re done.

David lay in bed, his salt and pepper hair gone after half a lifetime of thick unruliness. He opened his eyes and his mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear him. She knew what he was saying though because she had played it over and over in her mind for months. As if they were underwater, he rolled to one side and reached for his dopp kit, but she stopped him. He fell back on the bed, limp and breathy.