Eternal Eden (57 page)

I was a
Taker.

William had never mentioned this gift in any of our lessons, but I’d heard enough just now to put the pieces together. The bodies of the seven Councilmen falling from my body replayed through my mind.

I could take life . . . and apparently with the strength to do it alone and without the need for a handful of others. I understood why this would make the Council, and entire Immortal community uneasy, but William was right; I would never harm another . . . unless they were harming anyone important to me.

My lips curled up wickedly when I was reminded of the Council and everything they hurt and wanted to take from me. I could taste the seductive stirrings of revenge on my tongue when I envisioned each one of them wreathing helplessly at my feet while I drained every last bit of . . .

NO!

I shook my head forcefully to clear the evil stirrings running wild. Bitter tears flowed from knowing I was the dark counterpart to William. He could give life, and I could take it. Even before this knowledge of my gift, I knew William’s Council approving a Betrothal for us would be unlikely at best—given his prestige and respect in the community, and me being a new, utterly normal, unpredictable addition—but now knowing what I was . . . there was no hope for a Betrothal now. I knew
that
before Charles had so vehemently objected as a father, and as a Chancellor.

Our only option now—the only way we could be together—would be to run away as William originally suggested. With the certainty we would never be United by the conventional means, this idea appealed to me with astonishing magnitude.

We could leave and be together . . . but alone, and as the faces of his family flashed before me, I knew if we carried through with what the two of us wanted, there would never be anymore gray skied mornings along the coast where the four brothers surfed, and no more happy family dinners where laughter was the main course. And there was William’s reputation and responsibilities to consider as well—which were obviously much more elevated than he’d let on.

Could I, in all my selfishness, deny my beloved everything he’d created in his life before me, just so I could be with him? The question hung like a suspended guillotine awaiting my answer, but I knew the razor sharp blade would fall either way, no matter what choice I made.

I glanced down at my left wrist where the star-shaped birthmark rested like an omen. I knew now that I was both marked for destiny and a magnet for tragedy, but I also knew I held the power within myself to decide how I would live my life and affect those around me with this awareness of myself; I would control the beast within, it would not control me. I would never allow another loved one to be harmed because of the deadly origins within me.

It was with this knowledge that I propelled myself upright from the billowy straw and left the enlightening confines of the stable.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

OUR PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE

A couple hours and a few miles later, I broke through a wall of trees into a large clearing, glowing from the moon rays saturating every blade of grass and tree bough that encroached into the misshapen oval clearing. A coyote’s song rolled across the landscape, mimicking the sound my sorrow would make if I could cry like that.

After leaving the stable, I couldn’t go back to the house of the family I would never become a member of. I’d needed the time—not so much to clear my thoughts and come to peace with them—but to accept them. I had to accept that William and I would not be granted a Betrothal, and with that, I had to accept my response and actions to this. I knew he wouldn’t let this be the end of it, that he’d fight with his life so we could be together, so I knew I needed to prepare and fortress my resolve so his barrage wouldn’t crush it.

That’s when I saw it—a partially framed, two-story home in the very center of the clearing. It was a simple design: rectangular shaped, plenty of squares cut out where windows would one day rest, and the forms for a porch that would wrap around the entire structure. One lone tree stood like a sage, old man on the east side of the home. Despite it barely half-way completed, it was beautiful; a house someone could easily fill with the love and laughter needed to make it into a home.

I strolled through the illumed field towards the house, unable to smother the curiosity I had to explore it. I stepped over the forms that would one day make the porch, and leapt onto the first floor where the front door would hang—I could see it painted my favorite shade of blue.

The wood groaned beneath me as I explored the first floor. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t feel like the stranger I should have here, in someone else’s home-to-be; perhaps it was because I wouldn’t have changed a single thing in the shell of the house.

The open room design, the kitchen facing to the west where dinners would be graced with the gold sunlight of its farewell departure, and the stone fireplace that stood in the center of the living and dining rooms, where it could be enjoyed from either. This was a home designed by someone with a like mind to me.

I touched the smooth stone fireplace with its quilt made by shades of grey, able to imagine the warmth they would radiate with a fire in its hearth.

“What do you think?” a voice called out behind me.

Under any other circumstances, I would have jumped like a jackrabbit from the surprise of it, but given this voice was one that could fill me with nothing but happiness, I grinned before spinning around.

“You found me,” I stated, struck by the image of William leaning against the doorframe of the front door.

He smiled. “I could track you if you were within a hundred mile radius. It’s as if everything within me is always looking for you, even when I know where you’re at now.” He pushed off the doorframe and came towards me. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“A hundred miles, huh?” I said, trying to sound unimpressed. I took a step back, as he continued to advance. I needed every last precious second to let my resolve take root and grow before he would begin his mission of crushing it. “Let’s put it to the test . . . what do you say to that?” I took another step back, but my back came in contact with the fireplace. There was no more time or room—I closed my eyes and willed a shot of miracle grow on my blooming resolve.

“Now why would I ever want to do that?” he whispered, taking the last step that positioned his body within inches of mine, but I’d done it in the time I’d stalled—I felt my strength originating from within as if my body had been this quality’s source.

He inched forward, pushing his body into mine until my back was pressed solidly against the fireplace. He pressed his hands into the fireplace on either side of my head, and lowered his mouth to my ear. “Why would I want you to leave when I’ve got you right here in front of me?”

My eyes opened into the special forces of his offensive. Those eyes would have crippled my resolve in a single blink two hours ago. Their beauty thrilled me with no lesser degree than they had the first time I’d looked into them and found my purpose.

“Good point,” I admitted, strategically ducking beneath one of his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.” I made sure I was half-way across the room before I turned back to him. He’d turned around as well, and had his back against the fireplace. He had an amused look of confusion on his face, due to my out-of-character jailbreak from his arms most likely.

“You never answered my first question,” he reminded.

My eyes narrowed with confusion.

“What do you think?” he repeated, opening his folded arms to the house—the pride in his voice indicative of a creator.

“
Another
Hayward home?” I asked with awe, thinking of the endless acres I’d crossed to get here.

He nodded his head, and commenced his advance towards me again. “You never know when another will be needed,” he said lightly. “This one will be nice and central—Joseph and Cora’s place is a couple miles to the east and Nathanial and Abigail’s is about a mile north.” He stopped a couple paces in front of me, letting me have the space I’d demonstrated to him I wanted.

I viewed the house with new eyes now that I knew what family would inhabit it, and my former admiration of it turned into adoration. “I can already see it,” I said, picturing the home in its completed form.

“What can you see?” he asked with obvious interest, circling around me.

I put to words what my eyes were imagining around me. “I see the walls plastered in pictures, bookshelf inserts lining the entire east wall,” I directed, pointing at the living room wall I had in mind. I couldn’t help but notice his eyes glimmer and his brow set in concentration, as if he were making a mental list. “I see four-paned windows, blue shutters, rocking chairs on the west side of the porch, and a window seat for reading right over there.” I pointed at the bay window I had in mind. I could have gone on for hours, but my suggestions were sounding more like bossy demands, so I shut up.

“Anything else?” he questioned, circling tighter and closing the final space between us with two steps. Innocently enough, he wrapped his arms loosely around me and let his fingers interlace over my back.

I relented and pressed into him, wrapping my own arms around him tightly. Everything was right again . . . but still somehow wrong. The reminder of the evil I held within stabbed me, reminding me of what was wrong. It terrified me. I didn’t have a clue how I’d manifested whatever life taking qualities flowed from within—so how could I expect to control it? I couldn’t.

My arms instinctively loosened around him. Never, in all my worst fears these past weeks had I imagined I could harm the man I’d do anything to keep safe.

“Do you think I’ll be spending anytime here?”  

“I
certainly
hope so,” he answered matter-of-factly, tucking his chin over my head.

I smiled from the blatancy in his voice. “In that case . . . I suppose I can see a state-of-the-art espresso machine on the kitchen counter, a huge garage where I can tinker with my car for hours, and a thousand pictures of you covering my bedroom walls.” I leaned my head back from his chest to look at his thoughtful face. “Or at least that’s what I’d like to imagine.”

“If you’re imagining . . . can
I
imagine I’ll be sharing your bedroom with you?” he whispered in a tone that was too dreamy for my heartbeat’s good. It chugged like an out-of-control locomotive.

I gulped before answering. “Sure.” The word broke, sounding like I was an adolescent boy going through puberty.

His smile was instant and breath-catching. “Do you want to see what room you should pick for us?”

Before I had a chance to bob my head once, he tossed me into his arms and was sprinting through the room and up the staircase.

“In a hurry?” I asked, keeping my eyes closed from the wind cutting across my face from his jet-like speed.

“It’s never too early to stake one’s claim on their bedroom.” He said with mock solemnity, slowing once we were in the hall on the second floor. He went to the east end of the hallway and entered the room the hall ran into. He turned sideways to carry me in, and set me down once we were inside. “This is the one you should select for us.”

He didn’t need to explain why, because despite it being nothing but two-by fours and particle board, the room was
ours.
The air that flowed freely from the open walls and roof changed when it entered this space, making it special and identifying this place being where we should be together. It was gripping, and I got chills from the aura heavy in the room.

“I’ll take it,” I whispered.

“I knew you would,” he said, sounding proud of himself. “Now that we’ve identified our room, where shall we put the bed?”

My stomach dropped a few floors, but liking this game of make-believe, I surveyed the room with appraising eyes. I surveyed the north wall where a large portion was cut out for where I could see a couple of doors resting that would open to a private balcony. I strolled to the back wall, and turned a couple circles, looking up, down and side to side, before I plopped down on the floor and laid my body out flat.

I heard him walk towards me. “Right here,” I said with an air of finality, looking up at the night sky through the roof trusses. “There’s a nice view.” He came to a stop beside me, his face blotting out the substandard night sky. “An
amazing
view,” I edited, admiring the new one.

He rolled his eyes like I did when he said something I thought was crazy, before his expression became playful. “I think you need a pillow.” He kneeled down at my head, and lifted it gently as he slid his body into position beneath it. He let it come to rest over his stomach.

“This is both the hardest”—I gently punched against his stomach—“and the nicest pillow I’ve ever had.” I twisted my head to look over at him, and let one of my hands mold against his cheek.

 “It is a great view,” he said, his eyes roaming over the stars above. He was pensive for awhile, looking deep in thought. I left my hand against his face and marveled in its workmanship again. “Would you like to see your star?” he asked, breaking the intimate silence. His eyes grabbed mine.

“
My
star?”

“Yes, the star that was yours before I even knew your name,” he began, looking back to the sky and focusing on one spot above. “Immediately following the first dream I had of you all those years ago, I went outside and laid under a clear night sky like tonight’s, and found the one that shone the brightest to me—the one that screamed its brightness in the surrounding black—the way you had for me.” My eyes stayed fixed on his face, not able to admire anything else. “It’s been a constant companion and reminder to me. Whenever I’d catch myself doubting when and if I’d ever find you, I’d look up and find your star and it would remind me you were out there . . . somewhere, and that I would one day find you,” he finished, smiling at whatever his eyes were positioned on.