“
How did you find me, Eran?” I heard myself say quietly.
His head snapped in my direction and his charming English accent took on an ever firmer tone. “Do you understand me, Magdalene? I’m serious. No more hunting Fallen Ones. No more.”
I blinked a few times trying to clear my thoughts, which were running as fragments through my hurried mind. “I don’t understand. How are you here? How did you find me? I was so careful…”
What I really wanted to tell him was:
I want you here, need you here, desperately ache to have you here beside me, but I want you to leave. Now. I came alone with a purpose and that was to keep you safe, well away from the Fallen Ones I’m now hunting. If you are here, you are not safe.
He was still for the moment, staring blindly at me. It was almost as if he was confused by my question. So I repeated it.
“
How did you find me?”
He sighed and dipped his head. His hands were now on his hips and he leaned to the side slightly as if he were taking time to debate whether to answer me.
I opened my mouth to repeat my question but he beat me to it.
“
I never found you,” he said, glancing in my direction for a reaction. My brow creased in confusion so he lifted his head and clarified, “I never needed to find you because I never lost you. I was here with you the entire time.”
His words slowly sunk in and when they did my surreal state was replaced with anger.
“
You followed me?” I demanded.
He nodded, not wanting to admit the truth in so many words.
“
Florida?”
He nodded.
“
Texas?”
He nodded again.
“
Colorado? Oklahoma? Kansas? Arizona? Mexico?”
“
The entire time, Magdalene.”
“
Then you
were
there in Juarez. I did see you in the rain…”
“
I was there,” he admitted. “I-I thought you might need my help so I stayed close.” He shrugged lightly. “Closer than usual.”
My shoulders dropped in annoyance.
In response, he approached me and placed his hands on them and dipped his head to catch my eyes, which I was certain reflected a burning fury.
In a soft, placating tone, he explained, “If I hadn’t followed you, I wouldn’t have been here tonight. And if I hadn’t been here tonight…” He paused to swallow back uncomfortable thoughts. “You wouldn’t be here either. Not anymore. Because of that, I’ll accept my fate…that you’re angry with me…but I do not regret my decision. You are too important.”
The anger I held quickly dissipated. What welled up were all the emotions that I’d subdued, denied over the last few weeks: misery, loneliness, grief…
“
I-I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered and then collapsed inside the safety and comfort of his encircling arms.
His embrace was strong, reassuring me that everything would be fine now; and again I battled internally over clinging to the consolation Eran offered or to shun him for his own safety. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t deserve this horrid life of hunting on the road. He deserved better.
In the end, the choice, however, was not left up to me.
When I stirred against him, he drew in a breath and spoke again, this time more hesitantly. “I’m bringing you back to New Orleans.”
My jaw dropped and I instantly stepped out of his grasp. “That is not up to you to decide.”
“
I am your guardian. I decide what is best to keep you out of trouble.”
This was our argument, an unending debate, on who had authority over my fate. Of course, as my guardian, it wasn’t likely that he’d ever see that there was only one person with the power over my destiny and that was me.
He continued explaining his point which only aggravated me more. “I’ve let you take on the last sixty four Fallen Ones on your own. You’ve eliminated the least dangerous of our enemies and you’ve done a fine job of it but you are now in new territory. You’re beginning to encounter more perilous Fallen Ones and I won’t allow you to continue as you have been. Tonight was only a hint of what awaits out there. The ones remaining are far more treacherous and they know you are coming. More important, you – as skilled a fighter as you are - are not prepared to handle them.”
My ego took an enormous hit at his assertion but that was just my emotions speaking to me. The truth was, as much as I wanted to disagree with him, I knew he had a point. I was not a guardian. I was a messenger and had only trained myself in defense in the case I should run across one of our enemies. Hunting and attacking Fallen Ones was an offensive strategy and required a different set of skills, ones that I had never honed.
In a last ditch effort to make me go quietly, he added, “Magdalene, you need a break. Come back to New Orleans with me.” His voice had a hint of pleading behind it; whether it was manufactured to influence me or was sincere I couldn’t be sure. “You can always sneak out again,” he finished with a half-smile, attempting to cajole me.
I ignored it. “And then you’ll follow me again.”
His expression turned to a frown. “Yes, Magdalene. I will. You know I will.”
“
Eran,” I stated firmly. “The reason I left before was because I am tired of putting those I love in harm’s way. I will not…cannot allow you to follow me.”
“
And I won’t allow you to enter harm’s way, most certainly not without me.” He crossed his muscular arms across his broad chest to emphasize his stubbornness.
I released a groan in amazement.
His lips pinched together then as he debated on whether to say what was on his mind, finally deciding to simply acknowledge it openly. “I-I miss you.”
I wanted to oppose him, disagree with him, tell him that he was only using those words as a ploy to get me back to New Orleans. The truth was I believed him, I felt it in him, and any remaining anger over his approach to convincing me to break from hunting disappeared completely then. More so, in that brief moment I realized that his absence had done more to me than I had realized.
Inside, I had been slowly dying.
Eran, far stronger than me, had broken through the wall I’d created to prevent the loneliness from penetrating. And here I stood, staring at the one person who I desperately needed, admitting that he needed me too, and it was something no wall could shut out. I’d gotten a taste of what my world was like without him and it was nothing but buildings and faceless people. It was a tasteless, colorless world void of emotion. It was death on earth.
“
Eran…” I mouthed, though no sound came out.
Again, his arms came around me, warm, caring, and firm.
“
I’m-I’m torn…I’m so torn…”
“
I know,” he whispered against my hair. “I know…”
One of his arms fell to the middle of my back while his other slipped behind my knees, and the next thing I knew I was being lifted.
My head fell against his chest, his stimulating scent collecting around my face. I breathed deeply, enjoying a part of Eran I’d missed so much. Only vaguely was I aware of where he was taking me. If I were honest with myself, it really didn’t matter.
We passed over the city and seconds later landed in the vacant driveway of a brownstone duplex in a more upscale neighborhood. I recognized it as the place I’d stashed my bike so that it would remain untouched.
Gently, he encouraged me on to the bike and collected the helmets from a small storage compartment.
As I watched him, I wondered aloud, “How do you think everyone is back home?”
I hadn’t allowed myself to think about them during my travels. It hurt too much.
“
Worried about you, would be my guess.”
Eran watched me, a slight frown still tainting his beautiful face. His eyes, always a clear aqua-blue, lingered on me, waiting to see what my next move might be.
When he handed me a helmet and I took it, his frown changed to a slight, hesitant smile.
Still torn, I didn’t want him to get his hopes up. “I ca-I can’t stay long,” I warned quietly, hating the way I sounded weak in my determination.
He nodded, breaking in to a pinched grin. He didn’t want to appear too excited. Without another word, we strapped on our helmets, mounted my bike, and set out for New Orleans.
Ironically, I realized that we looked like a typical couple out for a late night bike ride. Those we crossed paths with had no idea that the worst black arms dealer on the West Coast had just tried to kill me or that his body now lay at the bottom of San Francisco bay.
Gradually, the population dwindled until we reached a stretch of unoccupied land, where Eran’s wings extended and carried us through the air.
I ignored the pestering feeling that I was leaving my mission to eradicate Fallen Ones from existence – the same feeling that had urged me on over the last weeks despite my exhaustion and utter sorrow at being separated from Eran. I brushed away those thoughts completely so I could concentrate on something more encouraging. I focused on enjoying every inch of Eran’s body pressed next to mine, the heat that penetrated his clothes, and the flexing of muscles as he maneuvered the bike on the ground and then as he carried us through the air. I was deeply disappointed as we came up to the New Orleans city lights.
Eran had taken the ‘quick’ route by using his appendages to lift us through the air and curtail the delay of the roadways. Up here, it was a straight shot so we made it to New Orleans just as dawn broke.
Landing my bike at the back door of our old Victorian-style home on Magazine Street seemed surreal to me. It was only a few weeks ago that I had snuck out of this very same door. Since then, my focus, my instincts, my habits had changed. Hunting Fallen Ones was not easy and it required a different way of thinking, of being, in order to survive. I had changed to accommodate it and yet I still recalled what it felt like to be me when I’d lived here. I could relate it best to feeling like someone returning home from college for the first time, still the same person but with a widened perspective on life.
“
The lights are on,” I noted, taking off my helmet.
Eran had already stowed his in the compartment and took mine to do the same.
“
And I smell coffee,” I added, which didn’t surprise me. Each house has a distinct aroma to it. Ours could be likened to the sweet, nutty smell of a Starbucks coffee shop.
As I waited for Eran, a large, swarthy woman passed by the back window, which looked directly in to the kitchen. She was carrying a large mug with her, which again did not surprise me.
“
She’ll be happy to see you,” Eran said, coming up behind me.
“
Me too,” I murmured, taking the door knob and opening it to a screaming gaggle.
In an instant, chairs were tossed aside, the kitchen table skidded two feet, and arms were wrapped around me and Eran, some thick and brawny and some long and wiry.
Rufus and Felix, our other two housemates, took their time ending their impassioned embrace, shaking us from side to side in their excitement. When they released us, Ezra, who stood behind them holding a coffee mug and smiling warmly, approached us. Her hug was briefer but just as welcoming.
She evaluated me. “You’ve lost weight.”
“
I’ve been…active.”
My slight five foot frame didn’t have much weight to lose but somehow I’d managed it. The black leather pants I wore had started to slip over my hips at times which didn’t help during skirmishes with Fallen Ones. I’d need to have another combat suit made or start eating again.
“
Your hair is longer, Mags,” said Felix, taking a strand from my shoulder and holding it up as if that would prove it. He leaned in and whispered, “I can help you with that.”
“
Ehh…” Rufus grunted. “She looks fine to me,” he said in his deep Irish brogue, waving off any contention of it with a meaty, tattooed hand.
“
Thank you,” I said, proudly. He was always supportive of me, something I would never stop appreciating.
Glancing at Ezra, I noticed that she and Eran were silently communicating. Her expression told me that she disapproved of me leaving but was thankful he’d brought me home. “And you…” she said, looking Eran up and down. She placed her hands on his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “You could use a good meal too. Rufus…Felix,” she released Eran and clapped her hands. “Breakfast!”
The kitchen broke in to chaos then. Another pot of coffee was brewed; Rufus dropped more Cajun sausages on an already sizzling pan; and Felix added batter to his succotash and pumpkin beignets.
Breakfast conversation started with me recounting where I’d been and what I’d been doing, but when I saw their disapproving expressions begin to manifest after telling of my encounters with Fallen Ones I quickly changed the topic. The people sitting around me were the closest I had to a family and I didn’t want to disturb them any more than I already had.
“
Do you think Mr. Warden will let Eran and me back in to classes?” I asked before biting through a sausage and savoring the taste of it. For the most part, meals on the road had consisted of artificial, pre-packaged food nuked at small, obscure convenience stores.
Ezra was shaking her head, deep in thought. “You’re over halfway through the semester now. It’ll be a tough sell.”