| |
THE BRILLIANCE IS ALL around me, the ring of blue fire, rushed and shouting, still and silent, hating, loving, protecting, killing, all of a piece. I am in the black, dizzy, and I cannot find my way. I must go on. I must get through. What will happen to me in this reservoir of power? I do not understand how it mixes with my consciousness in a mysterious alchemy. Was a time I thought I was more than the power, but I see how it consumes me like a spark along an earthly fuse. A new fear. Did I ever know myself?
The Three. We cannot reach each other, though we remember our bond. Once, we journeyed together to save Pellus. Am I not as I was? I am not as I was.
Barakiel opened his eyes to leaden clouds spitting rain. It took him a moment to remember where he was or what he was doing there as his companions frowned down at him. Their faces told him they knew the outcome of the experiment as well as he did.
“It did not work.”
“No, not completely, honey,” Zan said. She sat beside him. “Although the Three think you will have less pain than you did before.”
“Yes, Barakiel,” the healers said. “Our efforts to heal you followed the same path they did in the Turning. We were able to repair cellular damage, but the expression of Balance within you eluded us.”
“Your scars look less angry,” Remiel said. “That must be a good sign.”
He nodded, ran his hand down the scars on his face, and glanced at Pellus.
How I wish I could announce that I will shortly deliver Jeduthan to his arms.
“You look exhausted, my friend.”
“My activities have been tiring, yes,” Pellus said, “but you may be confusing exhaustion with disappointment.”
“I am sorry.”
“It is not your fault.”
Remiel held out her hand to help Barakiel to his feet. “Let us get somewhere so Pellus can rest. He has been maintaining our concealment for a half turn.”
Barakiel stretched a bit then went to the healers and grabbed their hands. “Thank you for trying, Three. I feel stronger.”
“Not strong enough, but our trying is not finished, warrior.”
They made their way down from the roof and walked past the collection of humans milling about in the yard of the power plant—a few people in suits, firefighters, and heavily-armed police units. Barakiel listened to snippets of conversation between two men in yellow vests and hard hats. They had no idea what had caused the power surge.
“Thank Christ the shutdown worked eventually,” said one.
“The Seabrook plant said it can pick up the slack until we’re back online.”
“Shouldn’t be long. We can find any damage or malfunction. Damnedest thing.”
“Yeah, well, we better check it like a hundred times, because if we fire it up and something goes wrong again, bye-bye paycheck.”
Barakiel stopped listening when they began to complain about their boss. Pellus got them through the fence without incident. About a half-mile down the road he directed them into the forest, towards a rift. They entered the quiet shroud of trees but after they had traveled perhaps a hundred yards, the Three stopped, joined hands, and sat down at the base of an enormous oak tree.
“What are you doing, Three?” Pellus asked. “The rift will close shortly.”
“Let us linger here for a time, adept. This tall one seeks to teach us something.” They closed their eyes to enter their meditation. Pellus harrumphed, but Barakiel sat beside them and drew Zan into his lap.
“They have their ways,” he said. “At least the canopy of trees keeps us from the rain.”
“Yes,” Pellus said, reluctantly sitting. “I suppose it is a good sign for the Three to be learning things from a tree.”
“I read that trees communicate with each other through their root systems,” Zan said.
“I can feel their energy,” Remiel added. “It is quite peaceful.”
“Does this place give you any peace, Pellus,” Barakiel asked. “Even for a moment?”
“It is a soothing spot.”
Barakiel idly caressed Zan’s arm and nuzzled her hair as they waited for the Three to emerge from their contemplation.
We are desperate to spend time alone but feel selfish for wanting it.
More than an hour had passed when the Sylvan Three opened their eyes and said, “Creation,” in unison. Barakiel bolted upright, almost spilling Zan to the ground.
“Sorry, my love. What, Three?”
“Creation,” they said again. The others looked at them. “The power of that place,” they waved vaguely back at the power plant, “is Destruction. The tall one does not like it. In its own way, the tall one asked for our help. We were able to heal the delicate roots of some of its younger selves. In doing so, we came to understand the Destructive power of that place. Though it may be useful for you, Barakiel, it is not what we need to bond fully in healing. We need power like that offered by this tall one, but much greater.”
“Nature,” Barakiel said. “The raw power of nature, not as it is harnessed by humans.”
“Lightning?” Zan asked. “Could you direct a lightning bolt, Pellus?”
“I could, but I believe lightning is too fleeting. Sustained power would be better.”
Barakiel’s heart lifted at Zan’s suggestion and sank again with the response from Pellus, but a memory nagged at his mind.
Where was I when I cursed the humans for not harnessing nature’s energy?
“Water!” Barakiel exclaimed. “I dove to the bottom of Delaware Bay once. I could feel a hundred-thousand stoneweight of water moving toward the open sea. It held great power.”
“We do not think we could sustain ourselves under that water, Barakiel,” the Three said.
Zan started to dance around the little clearing. “What is it?” Remiel asked.
“A waterfall!” Zan rubbed her hands together. “A big one. Would you be able to access the power of water if you were adjacent to it, Three, and not under it? This would be safer for you.”
“Brilliant!” Pellus said.
“A waterfall?” the Three cocked their heads. “You combine two Covalent words, Zanogara, that are not normally combined. We do not understand.”
“We do not have waterfalls in the Covalent Realm, Three,” Barakiel said. “We should show you.” He took out his phone, thanked Balance he had full bars, and searched for Iguazu Falls in Argentina. When the Three got over their curiosity about the smartphone, he got them to watch the video of the cascading water. They nodded their delicate heads.
“We cannot say unless we travel to such a place, but it is promising.”
They all grinned at each other. Pellus suggested they go back to the motel so he could rest and they could decide on the best waterfall. He scanned the sky for a rift.
“Before we go, Pellus,” the Three said. “Can you help the tall ones? The vibrations from that thing,” they waved toward the power plant, “distress them. Can you block the vibrations in any permanent way?”
“Hmmm. I may be able to lessen them by breaking up some of the rock in the substrata. Let me contemplate the best approach as we head to the rift.”
At long last, Barakiel was alone with Zan. Pellus, Remiel, and the Sylvan Three had traveled to the hidden base in the Wasteland, given that Barakiel was not the only warrior who needed the Three’s healing touch. Zan and Pellus had urged them to make another attempt to fully heal Barakiel before a trip to the Wasteland, but Remiel had insisted. Some of her warriors were in pain. Barakiel was not. He could wait.
Right now, he considered a different kind of healing touch. The bonded mates stared at a luxurious king-size bed, having dumped their low-key motel in favor of four-star accommodation in Boston’s Copley Square.
“This feels a little weird, doesn’t it, honey?” Zan said.
“Nothing seems to matter while Pellus is deprived of his mate.” Barakiel threw open the heavy green drapes and stared down at the Romanesque towers of Trinity Church, its grounds patrolled by police officers with assault rifles, no doubt a measure taken after the demon attack. “I only want to hold you. That is all I need. Simply to hold you heals me more than anything else.”
Zan came up behind him and encircled his waist with her arms. “I wish that were true.”
“It is, if we are talking about my mind and heart. I find no peace except in your arms.”
“Me, too.” She moved around to face him, drew him down for a kiss. He concentrated on her soft lips that gave way to his seeking tongue, so gentle, so comforting. He broke the kiss to hug her close.
“I don’t want to be this way, Zan,” he whispered. “You’re right, I killed Lucifer. I haven’t failed, yet I feel like I have.”
She led him next to the bed, began to unbutton his linen shirt. “We’ll find a way, Rainer. The Three will return you to Balance and you’ll give everything you have. I know you suffer as long as he suffers. I’m there with you, but we’re allowed a little respite. We’re allowed to recharge ourselves for the struggles to come.”
In one fluid move, Barakiel pulled off Zan’s shirt, then kissed her bare shoulder. “Did you ever think you’d have to try so hard to get me into bed?”
“How quickly you forget. You wanted no part of me after you killed the French monks and lost Balance. I didn’t know what you were then. I was so confused. I thought it was clinical depression.”
“Wasn’t it? The Covalent equivalent, although our whole system becomes imbalanced, not just the mix of chemicals in our brains.”
“You’re better this time.”
“Yes, this loss of Balance is curious, yet I still have little passion to offer you.”
“Then offer me tenderness. Be close to me.”
Barakiel sat on the bed, grabbed her hips, and crushed his face to her stomach as sweet, sharp pain constricted his chest.
The scent of you. Thank the Guardians for you.
While licking along her belly he removed her pants then rose to gently place her on the bed. She sat up, removed the rest of his clothing, and drew her hand along the scar on his stomach. “You should be proud of this scar,” she said. She kissed it and tugged at him to join her on the bed. He wrapped her up and pressed his length against her, concentrating on her velvet skin until no thought entered his mind, only Zan, the form of her, the feel of her, the smell of her. He kissed her deeply, continuously, while his hands felt every curve and mound. Her sighs spoke of pleasure and peace while he kissed her breasts and reached between her legs to softly stroke her. When he moved downward, she stopped him.
“No, face to face.” She reached for him, caressed him, and pushed with her other hand to move him on top of her. He gasped as she brought his tip inside her with a thrust of her hips. “Now, deep. Go deep.”
He sank into her, filling his senses with her warmth, with her delicate moan as he slowly went farther and farther until he couldn’t go any more and everything was thick and soft and warm and his body tingled with joy and dreamy pleasure. She rocked her hips, slowly, gently, and he matched her, whispering in her ear how much he loved her, needed her, until her body gave him its energy with a shudder. He stopped moving and gazed at her face. A hint of peach flushed her flawless skin. Her eyes were closed and when she opened them he stared into that deep blue, dove into its acceptance and love. He relaxed, still inside her, and let a bit of his weight press her into the bed the way he knew she liked.
“Mmmmm, honey,” she said. “You wrapped me in sunlight.”
“I’m glad I pleased you.”
“What about you?”
“You are pleasing me.”
“You know what I mean,” she said, moving her hips again. He stopped her. “Later. I want to stay inside you, quiet and still, take your scent, feel your pulse.”
“I can feel yours. Each beat gives me a little racing thrill. Makes me want to move again.”
“You are very lustful.”
Zan laughed, bit his neck. “Of course, I am.” She nibbled his earlobe, whispered, “I love you, Rainer.”