chapter eleven
DELICATE THREADS
I took off first, daring him to catch me. I was better at it now, better than I should be. But then I always picked up new skills quite quickly. We were in the Enchanted Forest, weaving through the trees. I could hear him behind me, getting closer. A cackle escaped his lips, I pushed myself harder. He would not overcome me. I was not willing to accept defeat.
A split-second later, a blur whizzed by my right side. It came to an abrupt halt, creating a white haze before my eyes.
“You stink,” I complained. “Couldn’t you let me win just once?” I whined to him.
“At the rate you’re going you’ll be kicking my butt in no time. I will be the victor for as long as I can,” Link whooped, raising his arms in triumph.
“You’re right I can wait. I’ve got nothing but time. Do you think they make wheel chairs with skis on them for the old folks?” I asked, sticky sweet, as I skied over to him.
“Oh, you are wicked,” he declared. “But I still won.”
“Fine, you won,” I conceded. “I like that trail. It really feels like you are lost in an Enchanted Forest. I even have a Knight in shining armor, of sorts, to watch over me,” I teased.
“Mr. Knight is at your service Miss Johnston.” Link performed his best, full ski gear, bow. “You are Emily Johnston today, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes, we are in public. I realize that switching back and forth can be a little difficult. I slipped up, the night you found me, after I fell on the mountain,” I confessed.
“When?” Link puzzled.
“You asked my name and I actually said Charity,” I reminded him.
“Oh, that’s right,” he whispered as he remembered the moment. “Then you said, ‘I don’t need your charity,’ to cover your mistake.”
“It worked.” I shrugged. “Sixty plus years of lying, makes one quite believable.” I put my sticky sweet smile back on, pushed off with my poles, and skied away.
He easily caught up with me, and ordered, “Stay on Double Cabin.” As he passed me, he pointed to the left and yelled, “Galloping Goose and then Bridges.”
Enchanted Forest, Double Cabin, Galloping Goose, and then Bridges – those were four of the countless names that were staked throughout the slopes on signposts. The mountain was a labyrinth of ski trails. Navigating your way down could easily be compared to driving the freeways of a large metropolitan city. The ski trails are the tangle of freeways that join each other at various junctures. The skiers are the drivers that must watch for signposts carefully. A name and an arrow mark the way for each trail and the skiers then merge, hopefully without crashing. Near misses were aplenty that day. Some skiers lost control of their vehicle and were involved in a single car accident, or caused a minor crash. Luckily I was spared the embarrassment and the inconvenience.
The fear of a bad fall, with an obvious injury, was ever present in my mind. I curtailed my usual recklessness. The influx of people during peak ski season kept the trails filled with witnesses. If we could ski somewhere truly remote, completely by ourselves, I would really let myself go. Then Link would genuinely have something to contend with.
We skied on, knees slightly bent, skis zigzagging, making our way down the mountain. Link stayed by my side, my ever-present sentry. He was always on the lookout now. My guilt, for bringing him into this life of mine, was growing. But I could not imagine going on without him. Prior to Link I was merely living; a day-to-day drudge through life. With Link by my side, I felt truly alive.
In no time at all we reached the bottom and slid back in line for Lift Ten. I was starting to feel like a yo-yo – up and down, up and down. We had repeated the scenario several times already, varying the route just a little for each trip down. I was beginning to tire.
“Last one,” I exhaled, as we were lifted into the air.
“Are you sure? The lifts don’t close for another hour,” Link pointed out.
“I’d rather be snuggled under a blanket, sipping hot chocolate by the fire, with you,” I breathed, resting my head on his shoulder.
“I can’t argue with that, but let’s make it a good one.”
“What does that mean?” I groaned, wary of his use of the term good one.
“After we get off Ten, let’s take Eleven up, then ski over to Twelve and take her up too. Galloping Goose runs the whole way down, and back home. It is a beautiful trail, you’ll love it.” Link smiled my smile and I was helpless.
“If one more run will keep that smile on your face, you’ve got it. Do you realize you just called a ski lift – her? I’m thinkin’ maybe I should be a bit jealous here. Maybe you rather ski than be spending time with me?” I teased.
“I’m getting the best of both worlds today,” he assured.
“The bead tree,” I exclaimed, immediately distracted by the sight. “I keep forgetting.”
Up ahead, I could just make out the bead tree, on our left hand side. I had noticed it during our first trip up this lift (days ago) and marveled at the little bit of Mardi Gras that had somehow made its way to a snowy mountainside in Colorado. The tall evergreen was covered in colorful strings of beads, which had been thrown by skiers. Some were weathered and faded, others were bright shiny and new. Each one represented a different skier, but together they created a symbol of celebration. I reached into my jacket pocket and extracted the strand that I had stowed away before we’d left the house.
I put the beads up to Link’s face, “Kiss it,” I ordered with a grin. He complied and I gave it a kiss as well. As soon as we were near enough, I chucked it toward the tree. It landed perfectly, ringing around a waiting branch. “There we are.” I turned back to Link and pointed to the necklace. “We will be in that tree, forever.”
I had dared to leave a little bit of myself, out in the open. I realized that it was safe. No one would ever be able to track it back to me. But I was so used to covering my tracks, making sure that no traces of Charity were left whenever we moved on. I had abandoned my own name years ago. If I was entering a high school I was always absent on picture day. Databases were scrubbed clean of ID photos. Handwriting experts had taught me well, the art of altering one’s writing so that it was unrecognizable. Charity didn’t exist anymore, except to Catherine and James, and now to Link as well. It was comforting to know that a little bit of her was also in that tree, no matter how insignificant it may seem.
I followed Link from lift to lift, until we reached the top of Galloping Goose. It was officially the highest I’d ever been on the mountain – almost twelve thousand feet. I found it beautiful and eerie all at the same time. We’d stopped in a wide flat area, after getting off the lift. The view was undeniably beautiful. The top of the mountain, its rocky edges jutting out of the snow, was in full view. Then I noticed all the rope. We were at the edge. The boundary lines were staked in the snow, rope strung, and warning signs hung, letting everyone know that danger awaited anyone who dared to cross the line. I stayed as far away from the edge as I could.
“Come on, scaredy cat. I can’t believe a girl, who can self heal, is shying away from danger,” he taunted.
“Too many witnesses.” I pointed to all the skiers as they passed by. “Do you want me to have to leave tomorrow? ...flee in the middle of the night?” I asked.
“Point taken, stay away from the edge. Let’s go,” he urged, digging his poles into the snow.
“Okay, okay...” I pushed off.
Again we skied, Link by my side. I watched the snow glisten in the sun as we flew down the mountainside. It had a twinkle and a shine to it, as it reflected the light. It looked like fairies had come along and sprinkled glitter over the entire surface of the snow. It was beautiful. This day was beautiful. Link was beautiful.
There was an energy that radiated from him when he was doing the things he loved. He seemed to sparkle around the edges to me, as he reached out to touch my hand. His brilliant smile was plastered on his face, almost a perma
nent fixture when we were on the mountain. I hated the thought that by the end of the night it would probably be gone, replaced by the calm but worried mask I’d caused him to wear before.
When we reached the house my cheeks, tingling from the icy wind, were flushed. Link’s were bright red. Once all our gear was removed and placed in the garage, we headed toward the kitchen. We needed warmth.
“Hot chocolate coming right up,” I giggled as Link playfully pushed me into the room.
Catherine stood, waiting by the counter. I froze. “Did you tell him?” she asked.
A wall of guilt slammed against me. I had been stalling her for days now. “Not yet,” I replied.
“What? What are you not telling me?” Link asked, stunned by my visible apprehension.
“Charity, you promised us.” Catherine eyed me with disappointment. “They’ll be here tomorrow. They always show up on Christmas Eve.”
“I know... I know... I was going to tell him tonight. I swear.” It was the truth. I was putting it off until the last minute. Although, there was a part of me that just wanted to wait until late tomorrow – right before they walked through the door.
“Hello... I’m right here...” Link waved his arms at the two of us. “Tell me now,” he ordered.
“Some friends of ours will be here tomorrow night,” Catherine turned toward him. “Charity...” She poked my shoulder.
The impact forced me to wake from my momentary coma. I was trying to figure out a way to lessen the blow. I prayed he could handle it.
“S-Sorry,” I stammered. “As Catherine said, we have guests arriving tomorrow. There will be two for sure. Sometimes they bring friends. I hope they don’t this year. That might be too much. Marcus and Eve...” I trailed off. I was babbling.
“And these friends, Marcus and Eve, are special?” Link asked, trying to help me along.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Immortals, like you,” he continued.
“Not quite Immortals.” I paused. “Not exactly like us.” I glanced at Catherine pleading for help.
“How are they not like you?” Link asked, hesitant now.
“Remember how you asked me what I was, that day you showed me your grandfather’s photo album? You asked if I was a Vampire or a Witch.” I cringed, just a little, as the words left my mouth.
“Yes,” he said.
“Well...” I shrugged.
“They are one of those things?” He looked at Catherine, she just nodded her head. “Which one are they?”
“Witches,” I whispered.
“Witches...” Link froze.
“Please don’t freak,” I begged. “I know this is a lot. I should have told you earlier, but I just wanted to give you time to adjust to me and to my situation before I burdened your mind with this reality too. Just weeks ago, you were oblivious to the existence of Immortals. Now you know I’m one and tomorrow you’ll be meeting Witches. Oh, I wish this wasn’t all happening so fast.”
“Just tell me I’m not in danger,” he said quietly.
“Marcus and Eve, and their – let’s say – associates, have made a conscious effort to leave the nontoxic, as they say, alone. But they do tend to pester those they consider detrimental,” I explained.
“You’re talking in riddles,” Link accused.
“They are our friends, Link, they will do you no harm,” I promised him, hoping I was right.
“Alright, I trust you. You said not quite Immortals, not quite like you? What makes them different?” he asked, putting his calm mask on.
I hated that I knew what was underneath that mask. The calm wasn’t real… yet.
“They age, but at a drastically slower rate. They also have powers, real powers. Some are external, something that they can display outside their bodies, and some are internal, a mental power,” I explained.
“There would be no reason for them to use these powers to harm you. It is your decision, you can choose to not be here,” Catherine offered.
“I’ll be fine. Wherever Charity is, that is where I’ll be,” Link stated.
“I love you,” I said, my lips pressed to his shoulder.
“I love you,” he said and kissed the top of my head.
We had never put a mortal alone in a room with Marcus, Eve, or their friends before. We had all been out together, in many cities. They were as concerned as we were about discovery. I just couldn’t see them harming someone unless provoked. But still, I worried.
The stream of questions came as soon as we were alone, behind closed doors.
“What are they like?” Link asked.
“Marcus has a great sense of humor, and Eve is just sweet,” I answered.
“A sweet Witch.” He shook his head. “I mean, what are Witches like? The real ones,” he clarified.
“Well, James thinks that they were originally a genetic offshoot from us. There are similarities.”
“But their powers are the difference,” he pointed out.
“Yes. We can heal, that is our only power. They have at least two, and gain others as they age,” I said.
Link sat down on the chair at my desk. “So how do they age?” he asked.
“James has been tracking their progress for about fifty years. They give him blood samples whenever they visit. He thinks that about ten human years it equal to one Witch year. The ageing process doesn’t actually slow down until after their body reaches maturity, sometime after puberty. That is also when their powers begin to emerge,” I explained.
“Explain their powers to me. I’d rather know now than be shocked with them later and act like a fool in front of your friends.”
“I’ll start with Marcus,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Marcus finds lost items. It sounds silly, but whenever something is dropped or misplaced within about a fifty-mile radius of him. He gets these mental flashes of what the item is, exactly where it was misplaced, and then how it was lost. Because they are just images, he calls it a useless power... unless everyone had a name and a phone number tattooed on their forehead. But if he knows you, it’s very helpful.
“Last Christmas he found my pearl earring. I went to the movies with Eve and one fell out in the theatre. He texted me immediately, to tell me it was under my seat. So I personally love that power,” I paused to look at Link. He was still wearing his calm mask. But otherwise he appeared okay, so I continued. “Marcus also commands fire. He creates it in the palm of his hand and then can direct it to do his bidding. That one you’ll just have to see. It really is amazing.”
“Creates fire in the palm of hand,” Link repeated. “And what can Eve do?” he pressed, ready for more.
“Eve can create a blast of energy, a shock wave that would knock you off your feet,” I answered.
“So what’s her other power? You said they have a mental one,” he reminded me.
“She knows things. When you get in front of her and she concentrates on your energy, your aura, she will know everything about you... past and present,” I replied.
“So no secrets from Eve, I assume.”
“You assume correctly.”
“Can they be hurt? Can they die? Can they be killed?” he bombarded.
“They can sustain injuries, like I can, but their bodies will also heal. Legends conclude that they will die eventually, but we’ve never met one old enough to judge when that might happen. They can be killed. Beheaded and burned, just like me,” I ended on a somber note.
“No broomsticks for flying?” he joked.
“They can’t fly. Although they are extremely swift and agile, which would give the appearance of flight to the mortal eye,” I explained. “There is a grain of truth to most legends.”
Link stared at the corner of the room, his expression blank.
“Are you with me?” I asked.
“I’m just taking it all in. The frail and delicate threads that were holding my world together, are slowly deteriorating,” he attempted to smile. “Is there anything else you want
to shake it up with?”
“Vampires do exist,” I whispered.
“I figured that might be so. Do you know any?”
“Yes, a few. There is one I’d definitely consider a friend of the family. But he doesn’t come around as often as the Witches. We probably share a genetic link with the Vampires too. James theorizes that Immortals and Witches share ancestry. At one point in history an Immortal or a Witch was able to create a Vampire by giving a mortal enough of their blood that a metamorphic event occurred. James attempted to experiment... years ago... He tried to collect enough of his own blood to let somebody drink it. But even with a syringe, he can only extract a small amount. The veins push the needle out. The need to self heal is too strong,” I paused, studying Link’s face.
“Are there good ones? ... Vampires I mean, or are they all evil blood suckers?” He sighed in defeat. Link had reached his limit of new information.
“Just as there are good and bad people, there are good and bad Immortals, Witches, and Vampires. All beings make choices in this world. Yes, Vampires need blood to survive, but they can choose where that blood comes from. A person can offer a portion willingly, an animal can be sacrificed, donated blood can always be found, and then sometimes it is taken without permission and death occurs,” I explained.
“Do they go up in flames and burn up in the sun?” he asked.
“Myth,” I answered. “Sunlight burns their eyes. Then they are blinded until they have time to heal. That can take days and would also leave them vulnerable to an attack. It just makes more sense for them to avoid the sunlight altogether,” I explained.
“There are more things that go bump in the night, aren’t there?” Link gravely asked.
“Yes, there are, but I think that’s enough information for today,” I said, reaching my arms out, beckoning him to come closer.
He stood up and walked over to the bed, to stand in front of me. I tilted my head up and tugged at his arms. He bent forward to receive the kiss that was waiting on my lips. I was eager to replace the confused and worried look on his face with something more pleasing to my eye.
He responded to my touch immediately, with his own ardent embrace. He leaned in further, so that his arms rested on the bed. My neck extended so far that I was forced to lie down or break the embrace. I scooted back toward the pillows and Link followed, crawling across the bed with me, his lips never leaving mine.
My arms moved upward, my hands lingered on his hips and then travelled up the sides of his body. I pulled back and he raised his head no more than a few inches. I traced his entire face with the tips of my fingers. When my fingers reached his mouth, he kissed them and then lowered his head to kiss the tip of my nose, then my chin. His lips worked their way from my chin to my ear where he softly whispered my name.
I turned my head so my lips could find his again. His hand moved down my side and slipped under the small of my back, as we turned onto our sides. We stayed that way - a mirror of each other, face to face, chest to chest, knees touching, sweetly kissing – not long enough it seemed, until my head began to swirl and my breath became ragged.
His hand moved from my back, to my hip, and rested on my thigh. I twined my leg around his, pressing my body closer. He grew suddenly still.
“Did I do something wrong?” I worried, trying to pull back my leg.
“No, you are doing everything right,” he held onto me tightly. “I just remembered a promise I made to Catherine last week, while you were in school,” he murmured softly between kisses.
“What did she ask you to do?” I groaned, knowing the answer.
“To take things slow, because it has been so long since Roger, and because there has been no one in between,” he said.
“I could have guessed. She is worried about me,” I said.
“Did you ever... with Roger?” He asked the question I was dreading.
“Would it matter to you?” I whispered, hiding my face in his chest.
“No, but I want to do the right thing here,” he said moving his hand to the small of my back again.
“I want this,” I breathed, “I mean I think I want this. I don’t know. My head starts to spin and my brain goes on vacation, and it feels so right. But to answer your question, I never have - not with Roger – not with anyone. I am probably the most experienced inexperienced person on this earth. I am a really, really, old virgin,” I admitted, and quickly turned my body to face the opposite direction.
“Charity,” he whispered in my ear, pulling my back against his chest, never letting me out of his embrace. “There is no shame in that.” He moved my hair and gently kissed the back of my neck.
“But you’re not,” I assumed.
“No, I’m not, and it was a mistake. Since the day that I met you, I knew that you were something extraordinary. In these last few weeks, I’ve realized that my whole life has been a journey that eventually led me right here, to you. I should have known you were out there. I should have waited for you,” he said holding onto me even tighter.
“I’m so glad you’re mine,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“I am yours,” he whispered back. “But this can wait. Neither of us is going anywhere.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, and wondered... How did I get to be so lucky?
I snuggled further in toward his chest, not yet able to speak. The last of the delicate threads... the ones that had well guarded and protected my fragile heart for several decades... were beginning to unravel. For the first time, in this very long life, I didn’t feel the need to strengthen or repair them.
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