It's a Love Thing (43 page)

She noticed the clear division between
her brothers and sisters, some moving to stand behind Lucifer,
others behind Emmanuel, some undecided. Without thought, only a
deep knowledge that what she did was right, she moved to firmly
support Emmanuel. With great relief, she saw that Vindar had made
the same choice. She didn’t know what she would have done had he
gone with the opposition. Would she have wavered for Vindar’s
sake?

“
If you do this, brother,”
Emmanuel said, his words chiming with peace and love in spite of
his words, “You shall begin a great and terrible war that shall
tear our family apart. You know you will lose, and you will be cast
out of heaven, never to gain a body.”

“
So you say,” Lucifer
answered. Alashon shivered at the double timbre that shook the
foundation upon which they stood. “As for me and my
true
brothers and
sisters,” he said, his sweeping hands indicating those who had
gathered to support him, “we shall fight valiantly until we have
received our victory. Then it shall be you,
brother
, who will find himself cast
out.”

“
We shall see.” Emmanuel’s
answer was firm and full of confidence. She glanced fearfully at
Vindar. Suddenly, Lucifer gave a loud command, the bells of his
voice buried beneath the heaviness of it and a sure knowledge swept
over them that the war had begun.

Alashon stepped forward, but Vindar
took her hand and pulled her away, back to the garden.

“
What are you about,
Vindar?” she asked, anxious to get back to aid her
family.

“
It may be a very long time
before we can be together again,” he said, pressing his palms to
hers. His words stopped her short and her desire to join the battle
that now raged nearby faded. Sorrow engulfed her.

“
You know what this battle
means, Vindar?” she asked.

“
Yes,” he said. “The time
has come. Soon the earth shall be formed and we shall be sent to
gain our bodies.”

Distress filled her soul. “That can’t
happen. Not now. Not yet. We aren’t prepared.”

“
Nonetheless, it will
happen.”

Alashon pressed her palms even more
tightly to his. “I can’t lose you,” she said. “What if either of us
are swayed to the opposite side? You know as well as I that Lucifer
can be very persuasive.”

“
It won’t happen,” he
assured her.

“
What if we remain firm,
but once we are upon the Earth he is able to sway us to follow
him?” Another thought struck her and she gasped. “What if we are
sent in times separate enough that we miss one another?”

“
Have faith, Alashon. We
shall go together, and I will find you. And neither of us shall
fall prey to Lucifer or his minions.”

She shook her head sadly. “You are
much stronger than me. I shall be the one to fall. How will you
find me amongst the many? I’ll not look the same, nor will you. We
won’t have any memory of this time or of each other.”

Vindar stepped closer. “My heart will
not ever forget you, Alashon. You are as vital to me as my own
soul. When I find you, I will know you.”

Alashon smiled sadly. “Vindar, I
should like to believe that. But we both know the chances are slim.
You shall find another, beautiful spirit to love while you are in
your human form, and I will not even be a memory.”

“
Please, my love, don’t
think that way. You have to believe. We both have to
believe.”

“
Vindar,” she smiled, “You
called me love.” To call another spirit love was to commit oneself
to that spirit in an unbreakable binding. While she had long
considered Vindar her love, she hadn’t spoken the words, not
wanting to be the one to commit him to a life without an eternal
companion if they didn’t find one another on earth.

“
Because you are my love,”
he said. “There can be no other for me. Do you accept?”

“
You have been my love
since the day our spirits came together,” she answered without
hesitation. “And now, Father will
have
to send us together so that we
have the chance to find one another.”

Vindar’s answering smile glowed
brighter than the orb of fire that would give life to the Earth.
“I’m almost tempted to help Lucifer,” he teased. “At least if we
have no free will, we will undoubtedly find one another without any
temptations to cause us to stray.”

“
If only it was the right
thing,” she said. They did not need to express their shared
knowledge that Emmanuel had the right in this battle, no matter
what it might mean for their earthly beings.

“
I
will
find you,” Vindar vowed. “My
heart will remember you and we will be together.”

Tears like kaleidoscope glass dropped
from Alashon’s eyes. “And I shall search for you, as well. I will
only have to look into your eyes to see the beauty of your
soul.”

“
I vow,” Vindar
said.

“
I vow,” Alashon repeated.
There was no undoing the promise made now. They would be sent to
Earth in roughly the same time period, but they would be doomed to
live forever alone if they could not find one another. They did not
know where their free will would lead them, but they both swore to
use their will to complete their vows.

As a binding seal, they threaded their
fingers together above the pressed palms. The invisible binding
wrapped around them, cocooning them in its warmth and possibility.
They could have stood there for unlimited moments, but the sound of
the conflict finally penetrated their fascination with one another.
As one, they turned and hurried to join in the battle that would
forever render their family.

Earth

Drake Black raced down the highway,
his bike rumbling beneath him with a reassuring growl that
reflected his inner . . . well, he wouldn’t call it a soul. To call
it a soul meant to admit the possibility of a God, and he had spent
his life being assured that God did not exist.

What kind of God would leave a young
boy to the mercy of his heavy fisted father without reprieve? What
kind of God would take his mother, the only gentle, loving thing in
his life with a harsh disease like AIDS that ate away at her until
only her bones stretched tightly with skin were left before her
painful death? What God would thwart him at every turn, making sure
that everything he touched turned to mud? No, Drake had no doubt
that God was a myth perpetrated by people desperate to find a
reason for living.

Drake had only one reason to live, one
thing that kept his from turning the handle of his bike just so and
sending it plunging off the cliff to his right and into the ocean
below. Revenge.

He pulled up in front of the small
bungalow. Its charm nearly made him gag. He’d been warned he’d be
meeting his parole officer at his house rather than his office,
which he thought odd. Why would someone want to regularly let
criminals know where he lived?

He should have been more careful to
conceal his identity when he’d held the gun on the convenience
store clerk more than three years ago. But honestly, he hadn’t
cared. Not then. Not until they threw him in that hell-hole they
called juvenile correction.

He supposed he should be grateful that
he’d been seventeen at the time. A few months later and he would
have been considered an adult by the law. They didn’t consider him
an adult then in spite of the fact that he’d been living on his own
since he was thirteen, moving from place to place and making do in
any way he could. He would be twenty-one at the end of the summer.
He’d lived twenty-one long, miserable, empty years for no good
reason that he could see.

He swung his leg over his bike,
removing his helmet in the same motion. He’d certainly give that
one to California—taking a riders’ free will in choosing whether or
not to wear the confining things. So much for being a liberal
state. He laid the helmet on the seat, and then removed his leather
jacket as well. He was aware that he was a stereotype: Harley
riding, leather jacket wearing bad boy. He didn’t care. Let others
think what they wanted. He’d do what made him happy.

He strode up the sidewalk, smoothing
his shoulder-length dark hair back. The tattoos gracing both his
biceps couldn’t be helped. He knew the impression they gave, and
usually didn’t care, but today he needed to make a good impression.
He should have worn a long sleeved tee rather than his usual short
sleeved black one, but it was too hot.

As long as he was stuck in this town,
he couldn’t carry out his plans for revenge.

He lifted a hand and knocked on the
door.

“
Just a sec,” a cheerful,
female voice called from somewhere behind the screen door. He
glanced toward the beach that led from the bungalow to the ocean.
He supposed some people might find it appealing to live on the
beach. He found it pretentious. From inside he heard the sound of
metal hitting glass. He knew exactly what the sound was: a cookie
sheet being dropped onto a glass stovetop. A strong remembrance of
his mom washed over him and he pushed it away violently. He heard
footsteps coming to the door and pasted a smile on his face, hoping
it looked genuine and not threatening.

The door opened and Drake’s
face fell. This could
not
be his PO. She had to be about his age or even
younger. Big blue eyes in a guileless and flawless face gazed at
him. Her straight blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail high on
the back of her head. A bright, welcoming smile lit her
face.

“
Hi. Can I help you?” she
asked with a friendly tone.

“
Uh . . .” Drake mentally
shook himself. He was no stranger to girls, and had never had a
problem being as smooth and charming as he needed to be to get from
them what he wanted. Granted, he’d been gone awhile, but he hadn’t
exactly been
lonely
since getting out. “I’m looking for . . . you’re not Tom
Martin, are you?”

She laughed, the sound pure and clear,
grating on his mood. “No,” she said. “I’m his daughter.” She stuck
a hand out. “Megan.”

He stared at her hand. Did she have
any clue who he was, why he was here? What was wrong with her
father, letting her answer the door like this? He could easily hurt
her, quickly, and be gone—either with her or alone—before the man
had any clue what had happened. He realized he’d been staring at
her hand for an inordinately long time and yet she still held it in
place, waiting. Remembering his need for a good impression, he took
her hand giving it one fast pump before releasing it
again.

“
I have an appointment with
him,” he said.

“
Right,” she said. He saw
in her eyes that she knew exactly why he was here, but she didn’t
look at him with any less friendliness. Drake shook his head. Her
father was a careless fool. “Come in,” she said, standing back to
make room for him to enter.

He looked around. The bungalow was as
sickly sweet as the outside. It was clean and neat though sparsely
furnished. Seashells covered almost every available surface. How
redundant. There were even hanging plant holders and lamps made
from shells.

The far-too-friendly girl led him into
the kitchen. The smell of the freshly baked snicker doodle cookies
that sat on top of the stove assaulted him. “Have a seat,” she
said, pointing to the table positioned near a window overlooking
the blue sea. “Want a cookie?” she offered.

He pulled his eyebrows together in
annoyance. This wasn’t how this was supposed to work. “No,” he said
more sharply than he’d intended. She raised a brow at his tone, but
didn’t remark on it. Even more disturbing to him, she didn’t show
an ounce of fear. “Is your father here?”

“
Oh, I guess you didn’t get
his message,” she said. “He’s running a little late, but he should
be here soon.”

Drake was sure his face reflected his
shock. Was she kidding? She had let a felon into her home with her
father not even home? Anger charged through him at the stupidity of
the girl and her father both.

“
I know you’re not supposed
to tell me your name,” she said, picking up the pan of cookies and
setting them on the table right in front of him. She sat in the
chair opposite him and pulled both legs up onto the chair. His eyes
dropped to her legs. She wore denim shorts that stopped just above
her knees and a pink tank top. She pulled her ponytail around and
began twisting it around her hand. He couldn’t tear his eyes away
from the motion. “And that’s okay. Privacy and all
that.”

“
What?” His eyes came to
hers. He’d lost the thread of the conversation in watching her
innocently alluring actions.

“
Your name,” she said,
reminding him of the topic.

“
Drake,” he heard himself
blurt out in response. He clenched his jaw. What was wrong with
him?

Megan’s jaw dropped as he gave his
name, but then she smiled conspiratorially. “I won’t tell,” she
said. “It’ll be our secret.”

Drake’s brows came together
again in consternation. He wanted to shake her. Did she not
understand the danger he represented? Okay, not really, because he
would never hurt her. But
she
didn’t know that.