Chapter Sixty

A Story Retold

A pale yellow sun touched Lake Michigan with light but not warmth and made coral the eastern horizon. A sheet of snow smothered the beach in a series of cascading waves.

Evenfall slid away from me but did not get up from the green leather sofa. She looked very much like a caged animal, her eyes wide and alert, yet she appeared far from defenseless. She parted her lips slightly and licked them in a feral, seductive manner.

“Tell me what you know,” she whispered nervously.

The fire crackled noisily in the stone hearth, and the pleasant smell of wood smoke perfumed the cabin. The howling of a lone wolf was just audible from somewhere outside, north of us. The wind must have carried the cry, and I wondered how Jean and Light were doing.

“Your tarot are not a finished product. You already knew that.” I paused to gauge Evenfall’s reaction.

Eyes already wide with trepidation widened further. She shifted back uncomfortably upon the leather cushion until the metal-studded armrest let her progress no further. There was something feline about her. A trapped lioness.

“Umbra’s Miskenupik died with him,” I continued. “Yours aren’t quite right. Perhaps you’ve not yet made the necessary sacrifice.”

Evenfall jumped into a standing position with a bolt of grace and lightning-fast speed. She turned to face me from her newfound vertical advantage.

“I don’t know how you know these things,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “but you are involved in a very dangerous game.” She backed away from me cautiously until her calves bumped into the glass edge of the rectangular coffee table. She nearly fell back into the glass top but caught herself and regained composure.

“I think we both need some more port,” I told her. I arose from the sofa and walked to the kitchen with my empty glass dangling from my hand. I returned to Evenfall and poured the Death’s Door vintage into each glass. Shedding my former role as the least informed felt refreshing.

“You and I are both new players in a very old game,” I said, “but you should know I have learned much in a short time.” Even someone as dull-witted as me could not make the round trip from the world of the living without learning something along the way. I sipped the thick liquid, which now seemed more tawny and less sweet. She did the same.

“I don’t know what you know of the Miskenupik, but I do know who you counted amongst your acquaintances. Umbra’s dead and Salome’s injured enough to consider a change in paths.”

“Now you look here,” she growled insolently, “I don’t know whom you think you’re dealing with but I want to assure you that I don’t need to pick sides. I have my own power.” She emphasized the word with both profundity and menace.

I took a step closer to Evenfall but stopped shy of touching her. “You say that because you know only the power of avulsion.” I said this quietly and without bravado. “There is a far greater potency in unity.”

Not doubting my sincerity she dropped softly onto the glass tabletop. This time she did not spill the port.

“I want to tell you my story,” I pressed, “because so far you have heard only theirs.” I looked into the mirrored surface of her eyes and tried to offer her a sense of kindness. “I have brought you here tonight because I need information. I also need your assistance with a difficult mission. You will not do what I ask without knowing my side. Even then you may not.”

“Maybe I can help you and maybe not,” she said defiantly, her hands placed upon hips. “Maybe you can help me. You can start by telling me how you can disappear for months at a time. While you’re at it, you can tell me what happened to Umbra.”

I smiled at her anger. She was vulnerable, after all. I brushed her cheek gently and pressed my lips to hers. “Yes,” I whispered as I reached my hand inside her robe. Her belly was warm, and she shuddered only slightly when I reached toward that beckoning shock of dark hair.

Evenfall knew firsthand that the world was ruled by both division and unity. The union of lovers is sometimes ruled by both. I showed her tenderness, and she showed me hunger. I filled her body, and she took me without surrender or loss. We brought sunlight to each other’s dark shores.

The room lightened with the rising sun, and for a brief moment we let go of the world and lost ourselves. A lone pelican flew over the beach outside the lakeside windows but should not have been here this late into the year. He would not survive the winter.

We sat back down eventually upon the couch. The sun was now high in the dusty blue sky.

“I will tell you where I have been,” I continued from our earlier conversation. Time was moving very fast, and the Miskenupik and the law would catch up with me quite soon. I had not yet learned how to blind them to my fire walks, which meant they would trace me to the Cana Island Light.

I suspected Evenfall’s tarot might help me locate and enter the path to the Great Deceiver’s remaining Pillars, but there was more. The world would become a darker place if Evenfall’s cards were awakened by the Miskenupik forces. I cleared my throat and told her the story of my introduction into Isabel’s world. I spoke of shattered lives, of violation and broken children. I spoke of ruby skies and of hope. When I finished my story she understood I had become a Fire Walker.